Shipping Up To Boston, Part 4: Death at a Funeral
by Googlemouth
Summary: Father Brophy is shot while conducting a funeral, and so is the grieving widow, both with one shot. Which one is the target, and why? Final fic in the SUBT series. Thanks for coming with us on this journey! Co-written with ChapstickLez.
1. Chapter 1: An Unfortunate Acronym

**DISCLAIMERS**

_**Rizzoli & Isles**_** belongs to Tess Gerritsen, Janet Tamaro, TNT, and the host of writers, producers, cast, and crew who create the show we love to watch. We are not those people.**

**Spoilers for Seasons One and Two and the books. Rated T for crime, murder, and a loving, romantic relationship between two beautiful women.**

**This story is Part 4 in a series we've called 'Shipping Up to Boston (so if you haven't read the rest, some of the undertones won't make sense at all):**

'**Shipping Up to Boston, Part 0: The Trevor Project (see bit DOT ly/sutb0 )**

'**Shipping Up to Boston, Part 1: It Gets Better (see bit DOT ly/sutb1 )**

'**Shipping Up to Boston, Part 2: Occupy Boston (see bit DOT ly/sutb-2 )**

'**Shipping Up to Boston, Part 3: In Plain Sight (see bit DOT ly/sutb3 )**

**Co-written by Chapsticklez and Googlemouth. Beta-edited by WalnutHulls. You can find us on Twitter as chapsticklez, Googlemouth, and WalnutHulls.**

* * *

**Guest Cast (In order of appearance): **Father Daniel Brophy (John Slattery), Dr. Danielle Knudsen (Allison Janey), Kate Talucci (Katherine Moennig), Sister Polycarp (Cloris Leachman), Tommy Rizzoli (Colin Egglesfield), Dan Gerard (Marc Harmon), Constance Isles (Jacqueline Bisset).

* * *

**Chapter One - An Unfortunate Acronym**

The sun was shining.

It wasn't fair, really. Funerals should be dreary, grey, preferably soggy with mist or perhaps a light rain. For the truly awful deaths, those of children or those who would leave devastated loved ones in their wake, not just sad ones. For a husband, father, and pillar of a community, there should be a downpour just barely shy of the severity at which the funeral had to be held at another, indoor, location.

But no. Today was bright and sunny, the bitter chill of February having yielded temporarily to the false spring that gave so many people hope each year, only to dash them on the rocks of the later weeks of winter's last shout. Seldom had the sky been such a picture-book perfect blue, nor had the few clouds present so white and billowy. Optimistic birds had begun returning to the city and were twittering and fluttering, offering one another mating calls and displays, celebrating life.

Completely unfair to have to weep and contemplate death on a day like that, when instead of springtime, it was a dank, bleak November in the hearts of the mourners.

"Why do we celebrate funeral rites?" asked the priest rhetorically, his fairly youthful, handsome face giving lie to the premature lack of pigmentation in his snowy hair. The clergyman gazed out at the assembled mourners in their folding chairs, both hating and loving this part of his job. Death was such a hard thing for anyone to face, for anyone to help others face. He hoped his words brought some comfort, but was never quite sure. "True, we pray for the deceased, entrusting them to God's mercy and care. As Catholics, as Christians, we believed that Jesus conquered death, taking away its finality, its sting. But do our prayers truly _help_ the dead? Not really. Rather, we're just acknowledging what we believe: that God is taking care of things, in His own way, just as he would have done in His infinite love and compassion, even if no one stood here to say these words. The dead are already wherever God wants them to be, whether it's heaven, hell, or purgatory."

Some of the crowd evidenced surprise; one or two sour-pinched faces advertised clearly that this man felt the priest was skating perilously close to heresy. But Daniel Brophy knew his dogma, his doctrine, and was confident in his words. "It does benefit the living, however. It ennobles those who care for the bodies of our deceased loved ones, doing a service that can never be repaid for someone who can never express gratitude. It humbles as well, as we realize that what we're doing for others, someone will eventually be doing for us. It reminds us of our mortality, and of the urgency of doing the right thing _now,_ while we still have life, and breath, and strength to do it. But the real purpose of the funeral ceremony itself... that's harder, isn't it? It doesn't serve the dead at all, as we stand here and say our words.

"What we're doing here is comfort the _living_ in their grief," explained the good Father with a discreet gesture towards the front row of chairs, where the man's four adult children and two teenagers sat in various stages of sadness or anger, open or stoically concealed.

At the head of the row, nearest the priest's portable lectern, and wearing the widest hat with the least-sheer veil, sat the widow, barely containing herself. Even beneath the fine netting draped from her hat's brim, one could see her crumpled features and the redness of her skin as she held back what were sure to be wails of anguish once she gave herself permission to let them happen. "We comfort and surround the bereaved so that they can truly feel our presence, our support and love for them. Because in this way we are doing Christ's work, acting in His way and in His stead. When we -"

He got no further. The widow suddenly emitted a ghastly, loud keen of pure sadness, seeming to go on forever, like a siren or alarm, warning of imminent danger - of hellfire, perhaps, or of the sadness that awaited every other person here, eventually, when they were in her position. Without managing a coherent word, the widow lurched to her feet. But just as she had cut off the priest, so too, in her turn, was silenced - cut off not by another throat's threnody, but by the abrupt jerking of her body, the spray of blood, and, seconds later, the loud, cracking report of a gunshot.

* * *

Jane watched Maura on the podium and just grinned. The smile on the medical examiner's face was infectious; that was Jane's excuse and she was sticking too it. Certainly it wasn't that she was enjoying the slinky black dress Maura had talked her into wearing even though it was an afternoon bash (though she did look amazing in it), nor the heels which would surely give her a set of blisters. Still, Jane had to admit to herself that she was enjoying being out with Maura. In public.

Kind of.

"You look like you're having fun," beamed Maura, sliding back into her seat beside Jane.

"I am bored to death," Jane sighed, overly dramatically, and was rewarded with bubbling laughter from Maura. "Getting to watch you up there in that dress is cheering me up, though."

"Oh, so you want me to go away so you can look at me from afar?" Fluttering her eyelashes, Maura was teasing in her most coquettish manner.

Jane smirked and took Maura's hands. "No, I want to take you back home and get to the part where you wriggle back _out_ of that slinky dress."

Multiple times that morning, Jane had made suggestive comments about Maura and her dress. It was Maura's fault, Jane had argued, for wearing a red dress that hugged every curve of Maura's very curvy body. And the color was just perfect against her hair. Jane had spent several minutes trying to convince Maura that instead of helping her zip up, they should be unzipping and going back to the bedroom.

Jane had lost the argument.

"Don't you want to know," smiled Maura, "whether we won something in the raffle?"

"I don't even know what you bid on, Maura," Jane sighed.

Looking perfectly smug, like a cat, Maura folded her hands into her lap. "You'll like it, if we win it." Jane had put up with a lot of social experimenting with Maura, recently. They'd gone to the ballet, which Jane had not enjoyed, and a musical performance at the Boston Symphony Orchestra (in deference to Jane's musical education, Maura had selected a family oriented performance, and brought Angela). This was their third such event, and the Have A Heart HIV/AIDS Awareness fundraiser was, even Jane admitted, a good cause more than an 'event.'

None of that stopped Jane from pointing at vacation getaways and saying they wouldn't actually enjoy it, because they'd just spend the whole time in the hotel room, and wouldn't it be better just to go back to Maine? Or that getting a spa treatment would mean naked time without any of the fun parts. That was interspersed with comments like the one Jane had ready right now: "Now I get why men like women in heels."

Of course, Maura's reply of "So do I," sent Jane stuttering into silence. "If you're really bored, we can leave right after the raffle, but I was thinking maybe we could dance?" Maura essayed her suggestion with a hopeful lifting of eyebrows.

Jane's attitude for the afternoon had been surprisingly open. Normally when they went out, Jane limited her visible affections towards Maura. Then, without any warning that Maura could see, Jane would switch to being girlfriend-esque. Like when they went to the hockey game, Jane had kept one arm around Maura most of the night. And at the opera, they'd held hands, leaned against each other, and been called 'adorable' by Angela. Jane hadn't even blushed at the comment, she'd just smiled at Maura.

On the other hand, any time they'd had lunch at or near the office, it had been just like before, they were just friends. Not that they weren't friends, but they were certainly more than friends, and Jane's inconsistent application of her own rules were frustrating Maura. She knew, she just knew, that one day she was going to accidentally do the wrong thing and upset Jane. Instead of assuming and jumping to conclusions, Maura decided her best course of action was to simply ask.

For a moment, Jane said nothing and Maura felt herself tense up. She'd said the wrong thing again, and Maura quickly started thinking how to rectify the situation. But the confession was not what Maura had expected. "I don't know how."

Maura looked at Jane in surprise. "Surely you've had dates take you dancing before!"

"Just William," sighed Jane. "And not this kind of dancing. I mean, the wave your arms to loud music stuff. I don't know _dancing_ kinda dancing." After a brief pause, Jane added, "And besides, you dance way better than I do."

"I had cotillion."

"Is that genetic, or do you catch it from other people not washing their hands?"

Reflexively, Maura began to explain, "It started in 18th century France as a patterned social dance, with four partners. It's analogous to the square dancing in America, where the term 'cotillion' means a type of ball, or more appropriately, the preparations leading up to one's formal presentation as a member of Society, knowing as a débutante ball, deb party, or coming out party. Young débutantes are presented in public for the first time. Analogous to a sweet sixteen, or a quinceañera. The classes leading up to one's debut involve learning to dance, as well as proper decorum."

Jane's eyes had not glazed over this time, and she frowned, looking serious. "I learned in gym class how to square dance," she said, hopefully.

"I don't mean we have to go to a formal ball, silly," Maura smiled, patting Jane's hand. "Just that we _could_ go dancing together. Modern is fine, or we could square dance if you like. There's the Boston Uncommon, where couples like us go to do 'modern' square dancing."

There was a subtle shift to Jane's posture when Maura said 'like us.' An almost wince that, had Maura not been as familiar with Jane's face, she might have missed. Maura patiently waited until Jane came up with a reply. "I'm not used to being different," she finally muttered, but her hand stayed on Maura's.

As Maura formulated a comforting reply to her 'just coming out' girlfriend, and mused on the entertainment value to be found in a coming out party for Jane later, she heard the man on the podium speak up: "So we invite once more to the stage, the woman behind Professionals for Underprivileged Kids of Excellence, and co-founder of Professionals Upholding Science, HIV/AIDS Awareness, Dr. Maura Isles."

Jane was suitably distracted. "Really, Maura? PUS?"

Maura pursed her lips at Jane. "It's an unfortunate acronym, and you'll note we don't use it. You should have heard it before. In the original proposal, the organization was meant to be called Professionals Upholding Science for Seniors and Youth, until slightly more aware people prevailed at that meeting."

The taller woman was taken aback. Her brows rose, her mouth opened as if to speak, and then she absolutely could not come up with a single acceptable word. Especially not the acronym that that horrible idea would have created. Though PUS was certainly an improvement over that, Jane was adamant. "I'm not running the marathon as Lady PUS Gaga this year, no way, no how," she growled, taking Maura's clutch as it was handed over.

With a scimitar smile, Maura simply said, "But you are running? Good. I'll register us." And she sashayed up to the podium, just in time for the tail-end of the applause.

Jane would have slapped her forehead, if she felt it would do her any good. "I do these things to myself," she muttered. Resting her chin in her hand, Jane watched Maura's... well, her ass as she walked up the steps to receive an award for being utterly awesome, which she was. Well, no, it was for raising money for those living with HIV/AIDS who couldn't pay for their own medications. But still: awesome.

The 'being different' part of their relationship still nagged at Jane. She didn't like being different, or feeling like there was something abnormal about her. There wasn't anything wrong about being in love with a woman, certainly, except for some people's puritanical attitudes. Jane had seen, first hand, how families were ripped apart by things like that. Thankfully her mother had come around before Jane had come out.

The phone ringing snapped Jane out of her reverie. It wasn't the jaunty ringtone of her own phone, nor the plain, functional one Maura liked to use for people she didn't know. It was, of all things, the theme to _M*A*S*H_. Jane wondered who thought that a song about suicide was a good idea for a theme song, and reached into Maura's purse to see who it was.

Massachusetts General Hospital. Probably they just needed the coroner, so Jane answered the call, prepared to tell them to call the office, please and thank you. What she was hit with instead was news that made her blood run cold. "No, this isn't Dr. Isles, she's… look, just tell me what's going on. Who's in the hospital?"

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but hospital policy says I can only tell family members or the advance directive, which would be Dr. Isles."

"Does she need to come to the hospital right away?" asked Jane, her voice a little louder than it should have been for their location, drawing ire from her seatmates.

The nurse on the phone hesitated. "That… would be best, yes."

"Right." Jane punched the 'end call' button and started to collect their belongings when her own phone started to ring with Korsak's tone. "Make it fast, Vince."

Taken aback at the tone, Korsak complied, "We're at MassGen, there was a shooting." As he went on to explain exactly what had happened, Jane fell back into her chair. Not only did her blood run cold, it ran right out of her. She actually felt light headed.

The people at the tables nearby were giving her dirty looks, and Jane just didn't care. "Yeah, Maura and I will be right there, we're maybe thirty minutes out. Did they... are they already at the hospital?"

"Wasn't five minutes before EMTs had them in the ambulance, yeah."

Jane closed her eyes tightly and nodded, "Okay, just… We'll be right there." Hanging up her own phone, Jane took a couple deep breaths before grabbing her purse and Maura's. She hustled to the side of the podium and made all manner of gestures at Maura until, finally, after finishing a very Maura-ish speech, the medical examiner came down the steps.

"Really? You can't wait till after the raffle to ravish me?" joked Maura, taking her purse.

Jane's mouth was dry, "We have to go to the hospital, Maura."

"Your heels can't be hurting you that much -"

Cutting her off, Jane continued, "Daniel - Father Brophy's been shot."

* * *

**[Cue the opening credits.]**

* * *

It was Maura's car, and that generally meant Maura got to drive. This time, Jane was driving, and Maura was cursing every single obstruction or distraction on the way while her hands shook enough to disturb Jane greatly. Any other day, the lack of coherency in Maura's foul language would have been cause for hilarity, or at least some gentle ribbing. Today, the disjointedness was a strong indicator of just how disturbed Maura was. She'd never really learned to swear fluidly, but usually she could at least string together a full sentence, however nonsensical it might be. "Damn! Mother - ass bastard! Merde! This is… _fuck_!"

Jane suppressed the amusement that was almost enough to distract her from the urgency of their errand. "Maura, sweetie, you're scaring the car." The constant stream of (partially non-English, and fully non-fluid) swearing was, possibly, one of the few things keeping Jane's attention focused on driving. Her brain was able to stop running in circles as it listened to Maura. "I'm driving as fast as I can, babe."

"That guy ahead of us is driving like he's not intelligent enough to urinate downwards. Come on, get around him!" demanded Maura and she looked about to roll down the window, beating the dashboard with her other hand. "Go faster!"

Oh no, no no. Maura swearing in the car was fine. Maura swearing at people on the road needed to be stopped. "There's a gumball in the center console."

That was all the direction Maura needed, and she slapped the portable siren to the top of her car, flicking it on. Within seconds, the other drivers cleared a path and Jane floored the Prius, musing on how this was very much not the sort of car a cop normally drove. "I wish you still had the Lexus," sighed Jane, zipping around a station wagon.

"The Prius has much more efficient gas mileage and has better impact resistance," began Maura, and Jane let her run on for most of the rest of the drive, about the differences between the two cars and why Maura had chosen this one. As Jane had expected, the spewing of Wikipedia-mouth calmed Maura down, and her hands stopped shaking. "You did that on purpose," noted Maura, leaning back as they pulled into the hospital parking lot.

"I did," agreed Jane, parking in the doctor's section. After all, Maura had privileges there. As soon as the car came to a stop, and before it was in park, Maura was out the door with her coat whipping around her. Jane mentally kicked herself for the inappropriate thought that Maura looked damn sexy in the dress and coat, and parked the car properly.

"You can't have that siren on here," announced a lot attendant, as Maura ran right past him. "What the -?"

Today was just going to be filled with disapproving people giving her disapproving looks. "Right, I know," Jane nodded and turned off the gumball and put it away before following Maura. "There was a priest who was shot?"

The orderly stared at Jane for a minute. "You can't park there -" Jane flashed her badge and repeated her question. "Uh, the priest? He came in about forty-five minutes ago. If you're with the other detectives, they're up by emergency surgery." The man rattled off a complex set of directions, and Jane hustled as fast as she could to find her partners.

Vince Korsak was easier to spot, given the horrid brown suit he was wearing. "Geeze, Rizzoli, the Doc blew through here almost five minutes ago."

Wincing, Jane put a hand on Frost's shoulder to take one shoe off. "It's these damn heels. I don't know how Maura runs in them." There was a strange pause and Jane looked up from Vince to Barry and back, silently asking what was on their minds.

"Why's the Doc here?" ventured Korsak.

"And why's she so wound up? She nearly ripped me apart trying to find out how bad Father Brophy was," added Barry.

And finally, Vince drove it home with, "I mean, she's agnostic."

This was the time to stall, and Jane checked her heels for blisters (none yet) while she tried to think of an answer. "They're friends," she finally managed. Korsak snorted, and that reminded Jane. "Aren't I your advance directive, Vince? Ever since your last wife left you? If you got shot, you know damn well I'd be here soon as I could."

"Yeah, but we're _partners_, Jane!" There was a glimmer of logic in his eyes. Jane grabbed it with both hands.

"D- Father Brophy doesn't have any family in Boston anymore. Maura's a doctor. Wouldn't you want her to make the call?" Before Vince or Barry could reply, Jane added, "Hell, she's my emergency contact too! Point is they're friends. Now tell me something useful, like what the hell happened and how's Brophy doing?"

Clearing his throat, Vince went first. "Not good. He had to be de-fibbed twice on the ride in. It's… it's real bad."

On task, Barry pulled out his phone and read his notes (show off). "Father Brophy was presiding over the Montague funeral. Thaddeus Montague died. He owns that chain of stores on the south end."

Her feet hurt too much to stand, so Jane sat on the bench. "Yeah, the off-track betting places. Tommy used to like them." She took her shoes off again and started rubbing her feet. _Oh, bliss!_

"He died of a pulmonary embolism. Left everything to his wife, who was DOA," continued Barry, and paused when Jane's head snapped up. "At the service, she started wailing, stood up, and suddenly both her and Father Brophy went down. Blood all over the lilies and casket. Bullet went through them both and stuck in the coffin. You should have heard the stink the kids raised when evidence took the coffin in."

Thinking through all the shootings she'd been involved in, Jane tried to come up with just one where a bullet went through two people, nearly killing two people. Except for the obvious case that was a little too close to home. And even then, her shot hadn't gone _through_ a coffin. "Jesus, who did it?"

Her two partners shared an awkward look. "That's the thing," coughed Vince. "It went through both of 'em. And they were in the middle of an open area, and no one saw nothing."

It took a minute for the meaning to sink in, "A sniper?"

"That's what CSU thinks," continued Frost. "Went through the woman's neck, hit Father Brophy right in the chest. That's all we know. They rushed him into surgery."

Jane sighed and looked towards the doors. "Maura went in?"

"No one had the balls to stop her," Korsak admitted, sitting down next to Jane. "Where the heck were you two?"

"Charity thing," Jane replied, absently, wondering when Maura would come back. To her surprise, a young doctor was leading her towards them. Abandoning her shoes in Vince's lap and ignoring the fact that her partners were right behind her, Jane leaped to her feet and caught the distraught Maura in her arms.

It took a moment for Maura to catch her breath and speak. "They wouldn't let me into the operating room," she complained, giving the young doctor a glare.

The young doctor sighed, "Dr. Knudsen will be out as soon as she can with information," and quickly made an escape.

With a passing glare back at the doctor, Maura wiped her face. "He was hemorrhaging, and they had to open his chest. I don't know if it was his lung or - Jane, where are your shoes?"

The foursome settled into chairs in the waiting room, Jane with her shoes returned by Korsak, waiting. Frost and Korsak wandered in and out, calling back to the station for more information, pestering CSU for more evidence. Jane fielded calls from her mother, who took it upon herself to begin the emergency phone tree. A priest showed up after an hour, talked to Maura, verified with Frost that they were working on the case, and then left to take care of any church-related business with Brophy's surgery.

The hours ticked on into evening. Korsak got them dinner and then napped in a chair, as did Frost. Only Maura showed no signs of desiring rest. So Jane didn't either. She held Maura's hand and watched the door for the mysterious Dr. Knudsen. Jane had no idea who the doctor was, but she kept her eye on Maura and how she reacted to each doctor.

Finally a very tall female doctor, in a scrub gown that still had blood on it, strode out of the surgical hall. Immediately Maura was on her feet, and so was Jane, as the doctor held her hand out. "Dr. Isles, I'm sorry, I didn't recognize you in there." They shook hands, and launched into a medical discussion that Jane understood not even half of, culminating with, "Mr... sorry, _Father_ Brophy is stable for now. Besides blood loss and the expected internal damage from a bullet that size, he's suffering from pneumothorax…" The doctor paused and looked at Jane. "His lungs collapsed, both of them. And he's lost a lot of blood."

Jane nodded. "I got that. I've been shot before. A bullet of that caliber… I can extrapolate."

Knudsen went on a little further, this time addressing Jane at least partly in her description of what the surgical team had done. Maura asked questions that Jane didn't understand, but Knudsen managed to include enough laymen's terms and commonly-heard (among cops, people with often-sick relatives, and lovers of _Grey's Anatomy_ and _General Hospital_) medical terms to sort out the important bits. Jane decided she kind of liked this doctor. Apparently Maura felt the same way; some of the tightness around her eyes started gradually to fade, even before Knudsen concluded, "So now that he's stable, we've put him in a room in the ICU. As his advance directive, you can see him at any time, not just during standard visiting hours, and your... friends," she glanced deliberately but discreetly towards Jane, "can come in if they're accompanied by you. Would you like me to show you the way, or are you familiar?"

Jane shifted uncomfortably, wondering if _everyone_ could tell they were together just by looking, as Maura replied in a voice less shaky than before, "I am. May I go right now?" The very tiniest beginning of a nod sent her off at a very brisk walk, even before the vocal permission was given.

Dr. Knudsen turned back towards Jane and offered a handshake that turned into a surprisingly comforting clasp - surprising because the woman was so bony, much like Jane, that no one would have had any right to expect any kind of softness from her. Maybe a little clicking of bones. Suddenly Jane understood why people were always telling her to eat something. "I recognize you, Detective Rizzoli. I assume you're officially assigned to the case, and not just here in a supportive capacity. Do you need to accomplish other things on that front, or would you like me to show you the way so you can help your friend? She took off at a pretty good clip."

Jane glanced towards her partners. "Hey, Frost. Korsak. You need me?"

"Not yet," Barry judged, getting up from the plastic chair that, though initially uncomfortable, had been seductively holding him steady enough to make standing seem undesirable. Tricksy hospitals, they'd come up with a way to get people to get out of the pathways through which doctors might need to hurry. "We can handle the preliminaries, at least. We'll let you know when there's enough information to start talking to suspects, if it's before morning."

Vince added, in a lower voice, "Take care of Maura. If she and Father Brophy are as good of friends as you and her, she probably won't want to leave the bedside until he's awake and fine." Jane was hard-pressed not to correct him to _you and she,_ let alone provide any clarifying information on the relative closeness of Maura to herself versus Maura to Daniel Brophy. "Make sure she gets home, eats something, gets a shower, sleeps."

Jane took a moment to consider what that statement meant about Maura's reaction to Jane's own shooting almost three years before. Before they'd even been dating, Maura had given Jane as much attention, energy, and care as she'd given to her own mother after Constance Isles had been struck by a hit-and-run driver. How much she cared for the people who got close to her! "Yeah," Jane found herself saying, "I'll make sure she doesn't stay here all night." With that, she turned back to Knudsen and accepted the offer. "Show me the way, Doc."

As they walked through the antiseptic corridors, Knudsen mentioned conversationally, "You know, I haven't seen a bullet wound like that since I was a medic in Kuwait."

Jane was taken aback. "You were in Desert Storm?"

Knudsen chuckled at the surprise. "The Army paid for medical school, on the condition that I serve afterward. Which I did. Army's where I did my medical internship and residency, studied trauma medicine and surgery. I stayed in for a while longer, too. I only left about eight years ago." Bush's second term of office, she didn't add. "Anyway, yeah. This bullet wound... I don't want to tell you your own business, Detective, but I'd bet the farm that wound came from a sniper round. A .308 caliber, and probably a long range to boot."

"Wait, what?" They had reached an elevator bank and stopped, which was fortunate, because had she still been moving, Jane might have plowed directly into a wall, or another person. The CSU team was speculating. This doctor sounded like she was dead certain. "How do you know that?"

Knudsen explained as they stepped in, "The entry was quite a bit more narrow than the exit. The exit wound was about the size of my fist, but the entry was," she held up her pinkie finger, "about like this. Given the fact that I've been told that Father Brophy was the second person shot with that round, any other bullet would have had... well," she cut off what might have become a Maura-esque explanation, "a far different look to it upon entry. A full metal jacket sniper round , like a M118LR Special Ball or an HSM, can pass through multiple bodies without getting deformed, and still have enough kinetic energy to embed itself in a concrete wall over an inch deep. Depends how far back your shooter was, more than anything else."

Jane stared. Knudsen's voice as she spoke about the bullet indicated not the findings within a medical or military journal, but personal experience. Without another word, Jane whipped out her phone to inform Frost of the new facts. "...So look in the cemetery for chipped and damaged gravestones within the trajectory from where the wife was sitting to where Brophy was standing, and further out from there. Not in a straight line, either. Remember, bullets refract." _Ding._ "Gotta go, I'm getting into an elevator."

* * *

**Maura's having a bad day. You should review, and she'll feel better.**


	2. Chapter 2: Bitch Maneuver

**Chapter Two - Bitch Maneuver**

Jane gazed into the private room where her lover sat, clasping Father Daniel Brophy's hand. The man was still insensate, but reassuringly regular beeps from various machinery advertised the stability of his vital signs, and fresh bandages indicated the recentness of his surgery. The room's pale colors were, unlike at most hospitals, actually soothing rather than dreary, and the stark white sheets and robe would show any bleeding on the actual patient. Against this backdrop, Maura Isles stood out in bold relief, her red dress, suntan, and formal afternoon makeup and hairstyle completely at odds with the quiet serenity of the room. She was speaking, Jane could see that in the movement of lips. She could hear the faintest sounds of sibilants and plosives, though she thought of them in less technical terms than the ones Maura had once expounded to her, but could not make out the vowel sounds that would give the consonants meaning. The meaning Jane saw was all in the body language, the way Maura's focus remained on the comatose priest no matter what footsteps passed by - orderlies, nurses, the occasional doctor or cleaning staff, visitors, and of course her own footsteps, which had halted just outside the door.

Maura loved Daniel. Jane knew that, and as much as the knowledge had disturbed and offended her when it was new, she had gotten used to it, and even respected it now. Neither one of them had entered their relationship fresh from the womb. They both had lived for three decades, plus change. Each woman had a past, and it was the past that had made them what they were, brought each to a point at which she was open to loving the other. Jane couldn't fault this woman for having the capacity to retain love and respect for those who had never done anything to make her stop feeling those things. It just demonstrated what a huge capacity Maura had for love. When Jane thought about it, it made her love the woman more.

Jane, too, liked and respected Brophy. Brophy was a good man, and like the two of them, he had a past. The fact that his past involved Maura - _was_ Maura - had upset Jane once. Now she simply thought, well, good for him. If he was going to have the memory of one love, one lover, for his entire life, shouldn't that memory be the best one possible? And wasn't Maura Isles the best? Jane knew she was. No one chose love, no one chose whom to love. Like Jane herself, though, Brophy had chosen to accept the love that had simply happened. Like herself, Brophy had acted upon it, despite all the reasons that it could be considered wrong.

Unlike herself, Brophy had had something he loved even more. Marginally more, Jane was fairly certain, but more. He had made a choice of that other feminine entity - whether he called that entity the Holy Virgin or Holy Mother Church on any given day, he had chosen her over Maura, who would always be the _other_ woman for him. Jane never would. Jane had chosen Maura, would always choose Maura.

And Maura, Jane was just as certain, would always choose her. That was why, despite the danger to the life of this good man, despite Maura's connection to him and the fact that she had run to him with few questions and was still there, stroking his hand and giving him such devoted attention, Jane smiled to see it. "Hey," she said softly, with a gentle rapping of knuckles to door frame.

Maura turned just her head, and even in her distress, returned the smile. "Come in," she beckoned, motioning with one hand towards the second chair near to the bedside. Jane acquiesced. "They've put Daniel in a coma for one or two days to let his body heal without him having to really feel the worst of the pain. Just like they did for you. He's stable, and his vital signs look good. I read the chart; the surgery was as successful as they could have reasonably hoped. Dr. Knudsen is one of the best."

"Yeah, I talked to her. She was a military trauma surgeon."

They spoke about that, about various forms of internship and residency training, about the military as a supporter of education for its forces and for its veterans. In a quiet moment that followed, Maura mentioned calling Daniel's siblings in their various homes throughout the country, and the one brother who'd gone into the military and was stationed in Keflavik, Iceland.

"No one can get here right now. Two are pregnant and can't fly. The military one can't leave his station." Her voice was deliberately controlled, schooled to neutrality; Maura was aware that many comatose patients did hear the things being said around them, or at least understood the emotional tone of the people saying those things. "The last brother simply hasn't got the money to travel, and he won't accept a plane ticket from a stranger. And I couldn't very well tell him that I have Daniel's power of attorney and could have his own brother send the funds, because he'd want to know why I'm his advance directive, and not the church."

Jane took that information in, noting Maura's competent handling of practicalities despite clear emotional distress at the inability to do a single concrete thing to help Daniel, her dear friend. "So you're saying that, in practical terms, you're the only family he's got right now."

"Yes."

"And the church?"

Maura hesitated. "I've called his office, and the secretary is sending over a fellow priest, a Father Imahara, to administer the Anointing of the Sick." She didn't feel the need to explain to Jane, who had been through catechism and surely knew it, that the rite was the same one often known, by those who preferred more high-sounding terms, as the Rite of Extreme Unction. The ritual was available and recommended to anyone with a serious illness or injury. It was also, more popularly but only slightly less accurately, called Last Rites, a fact that both she and Jane also knew; the Church preferred not to call it that, because the terminology seemed to sap hope from many of those who were offered the rite. "I've never met him, and I don't think he's ever seen me. I'm hoping he'll assume I'm a distant relative. He'll be here in about an hour, at which time I'll go home for a shower, clothing, and food."

The "_And then come back."_ went unsaid.

Jane's brow raised. This was exactly the situation she wanted to avoid. "Don't you think that, since he's not going to be brought out of the coma for at least a day, maybe two, you should get some rest? You won't be much good to Brophy if you're stiff and sore and grumpy from sitting in a chair all night."

Again, Maura seemed reluctant. "I know, but he doesn't have anyone else who can get here to be with him. I feel some sense of obligation. He's my friend, and I..." She trailed off, eyes caught by motion over Jane's shoulder.

A masculine throat clearing alerted the women to the presence of an observer before Jane could respond, and Frankie Rizzoli walked in. "Sorry to bother you," he said in a hushed voice, "but I've got some news. For both of you. Should I give it to you here or outside?"

Jane had stood up immediately as her brother entered, and so she had to look back over her shoulder towards Maura to see that she had remained seated. "Um. Let's go outside." Once they were in the hallway, Jane said in more normal tones, "What've you got?" Maura would hear her, she knew, but at least they were observing the general form of leaving the presence of the sick when discussing practical issues.

"I was at your crime scene, me and a bunch of other unis, with metal detectors, looking for the bullet," Frankie related, still quiet. Hospitals made him itch, ever since his stint in one. "We couldn't find it. Korsak's pretty sure it's in the casket with, uh," he glanced at the pad of paper in his hand, "Montague. Casket's still out of the ground. It's got blood and bits on it." Again he cleared his throat, this time managing to sound apologetic about it, as Maura bit her lip and glanced tensely towards the comatose man in the hospital bed. "Uh, anyway, it's part of the crime scene. But they need a court order to open it, so Frost went to get one. I figured I'd come tell you in person, and Korsak said you were here."

"Thanks, man," Jane said, one hand resting on her brother's arm for a moment. She'd gotten more comfortable with casual physical contact, at least in her family, over the past several months with Maura. Once she'd even held her mother's hand, as if it didn't bother her (much). "Get one of those metal detectors, or get someone else to do it, and go over the coffin from the outside. If you find anything in there, call Frost so he can add that to the reasons the judge'll want to get us that court order, if he didn't already agree."

"Did it," Frankie said with a little justifiable smugness. "There's something metal in there, for sure. It might be the bullet, or it might be the guy's wedding ring and tooth fillings, or just the coffin itself, but there's a crack, so we think something's definitely in there. They hadn't put it in the tomb thing yet."

"Good job," replied Jane, sparing her brother a smile. She was about to say more, when someone else walked right up to her. She scowled. "What are you doing here, _Kate?"_ she wanted to know, shifting her weight unsubtly to stand in front of the door. Responding to that motion had Frankie unexpectedly behind her, with little choice but to back into Father Brophy's room.

The woman was nearly as tall as Jane, even skinnier, and just as dark of hair; but her skin was of the pale Irish variety, not the Mediterranean olive tone of an Italian. She had walked up the hallway with just as much swagger as Jane customarily called her own. Her reply was not audible to Frankie - nor to Maura, who had remained in her seat, still holding the sleeping priest's hand, but had turned to see the proceedings. "Who is she?" Maura asked Frankie as he stepped backwards into the room.

Frankie was even quieter this time than he'd been before. "Kate Talucci," he answered, his tone delivering the wary _Oh shit_ that he did not voice directly. "She went to school with us. Her ma is our ma's best friend, Carla."

Maura had met the two Talucci boys, but never had the mention of a third child, a daughter Jane's age, come up. Craning her neck, she could just see around Frankie, and caught a glimpse of Jane angrily grabbing Kate's arm and hauling her away. Their voices outside the room were hushed, but they sounded urgent, or maybe just tense, as they walked down the hall a bit. Maura didn't miss that, nor did she fail to notice Frankie's change in demeanor. "What's going on?" Since both she and Frankie were aware that they couldn't hear the actual happenings, her question indicated a desire to know why it was happening, whatever it was. Frankie obliged.

"Kate was in Jane's class at school," he said, still standing to keep an eye on the doorway and whatever could be seen there. "They went to academy together, too. Never did get along as kids, and it got a little bit worse at the academy, and worse since they were on the force. I don't know what Kate did when she was out on her first major assignment, but she got put on permanent suspension for it. Korsak might know, but if he does, he ain't said."

"That looks like more than just not getting along." Maura knew of which she spoke. Not only did she know Jane personally well - better than Frankie realized, she hoped - but she had made in-depth study into facial expression, body language, and other forms of nonverbal and subverbal conversation.

Frankie cleared his throat. He was really quite masterful at conveying all sorts of information with that one thing. At this moment, what his cough conveyed was discretion: he was going to say something indelicate, hoped Maura wasn't offended, apologized if she was, and would deeply regret doing so if Jane found out about it and had to punch him for it. "Kate stole one of her boyfriends in junior high, two in high school, and one in academy. The one in junior high wasn't really Janie's boyfriend, but she liked him a lot. The other ones were, and Kate got kind of... friendly with all of them."

Maura processed the words of the blue-collar man with a gentleman's instincts and desire to protect a lady's innocent ears. "She hooked into them," she translated.

"Hooked up. Yeah, the whole school pretty much knew Kate kissed Tony in seventh grade, made out pretty heavy with Marco in tenth, slept with Steve in eleventh. And the whole academy knew Kate gave Doug a blo..." Frankie cut himself off with another cough, "she was _with_ him in academy."

Maura's lips pursed. "I don't know how to interpret those actions," she confessed after a moment, as the discussion grew quieter while the women's body language grew more confrontational outside - to the point that Maura stood up, left Daniel's bedside, and walked to the door to step in front of Frankie for a better view. "That is, I understand what she did, but not what it meant. Do you think she simply liked those men and didn't mind Jane's feelings, or that she specifically wanted what _Jane_ had?"

Behind her, Frankie shook his head and shrugged. Realizing she couldn't see that at the moment, he then responded aloud, "I don't know, but whatever it was, they've been pretty much against one another for years. It only got worse when Kate started dipping in the other side of the pool." When he noticed Maura's blank look, Frankie took pity and elaborated, "She's bi. Or was bi. Now she's gay."

Maura tried to understand why Kate being gay, when Jane's sexuality was still unknown to her own siblings, would be a problem.

Outside the door, Kate made a motion that could have been construed as threatening. Even before Jane made a similar, exceptionally impolite, Italian greeting, getting right back in her face, Maura was moving - but not as quickly as Frankie, who clamped a restraining hand to her shoulder and didn't let go. "No," he warned, "you don't want to do that. And Jane wouldn't thank you for it, anyway. Stay out of it."

"But she's -"

"Nuh-uh."

The hand stayed where it was until Maura's shoulder relaxed enough to let Frankie know that his words had had the desired effect, which didn't happen until almost a minute later. That was, not coincidentally, the moment at which Kate walked off, looking _pissed,_ and Jane unclenched her fist and turned back towards the room, face exhibiting surprise and irritation that they were watching her. "What are you two looking at?" she demanded quietly but gruffly. Maura didn't quite know how to respond.

"Nothing," Frankie said as he got out of the way for Jane. "Just wondering when we'd see the back of her." The words put him firmly in his sister's camp. "Told her to beat feet and she actually did it, huh?"

Jane gave an upward chin-jerk of approval. "Yeah. Forget about it, it's nothing. Don't you have some paperwork to do?"

Knowing a _get lost_ when he heard one, Frankie beat feet even before Jane had refocused on Maura, her voice softening marginally, but not enough, her irritation with Kate Talucci having not fully receded apparently. "Come on, let's go home. You need to shower and get some food and a good night's sleep. You can come back in the morning."

Already picking up her things, Maura corrected Jane, "You mean I'll come back after I shower and have dinner. I mentioned that before."

"And I," Jane reminded her, "mentioned that you won't be any good to Brophy if you're tired, sore, and cranky. You tell me that all the time when I'm trying to work all night, and I'm telling it to you now. Get some rest or you'll just interfere with yourself when you try to do things."

"I'm not going to leave him alone overnight."

Jane was losing patience. She liked Brophy, respected him, felt friendship for him, but she liked Maura more. She wanted to spend the night with her arms wrapped around her lover, soothing away Maura's stress in seeing her friend and former lover hurt. She wanted Maura to want that with her, too. "He always sleeps alone. He's a priest."

"And you think that's okay? Jane, he's hurt and there's no one else who loves him and is able to get here to be with him." The smaller woman's voice pleaded for understanding. "You had your parents and your brother. You had your work partners. The only people coming to see Daniel will be a priest who's coming out of a sense of duty and correctness, doing the right thing, not because he cares about Daniel personally. You get me every day. Can't you let him have me just for one night?"

The phrasing was unfortunate. Jane knew very well that Maura meant to indicate that Daniel needed someone to watch over him in the hospital, but just at that moment, with Kate the Boyfriend Stealer Talucci having just left, and watching the person she loved more than she'd ever loved anyone say that she wanted to spend the night with her own former lover... it was too much. "Fine," she exhaled in a gust. "Stay with him tonight. I'm going to my apartment."

She stalked down the long, tiled corridor to the elevator, already feeling guilty for leaving when she knew she was Maura's ride, but not willing to back down from her heated emotions long enough to say so.

* * *

Brushing her teeth in the morning in a lonely, empty apartment, Jane reflected on how much of her life was tied into Maura's now. Everything she loved best was already over there, including most of her 'art' objects, her classic baseball collections, and even her worn map of Massachusetts, where she pinned her recent cases (and, admittedly, still kept track of Hoyt's killings, just in case there was another Apprentice out there). Even Joe and the stupid turtle (tortoise!) lived at Maura's now.

Staring at her closet, Jane found last year's style and was horrified to realize she even knew what this year's style was! "Oh, god," she muttered and pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes. First Brophy, then Kate, and now she was being stupid with Maura. "I wonder where she is," sighed Jane, used to talking aloud to 'someone' in the morning. "Because I have her car... Oh, man, Rizzoli, that was a _bitch_ maneuver!"

Not that Maura wasn't perfectly capable of taking a cab, but that was not, in any way, shape, or form, something you should do to your friend. And sure as hell not to your _girlfriend_. Guilt sped Jane through her morning routine, scrounging something to wear that wouldn't make Maura comment about how she was wearing _that_, and then dug out one of Maura's more casual outfits, left from some sleep over or another. It wasn't haute couture, but it was better than being stuck in last night's slinky dress.

_I had so many better ideas for that dress_, thought Jane as a quick inventory of her fridge came up completely devoid of food or coffee. She decided to hit up the coffee shop on the corner, but made a discreet call to the hospital to see who was there, in order to get the right amount and type of fluffy coffee drinks. Apology lattes and more purchased, Jane made it back to MassGen in record time, even without the gumball, and peeked inside.

Daniel Brophy lay still, as before, the machines quietly humming, beeping regularly to announce that they were still working and that so, for the moment, was he. He looked even paler than usual, and smaller by far than his six-foot-plus frame normally appeared while standing. The paleness could perhaps be ascribed to the fluorescent lighting, but lighting could not account for how much older he looked, drawn and pinched, and tired despite his coma-enforced rest.

Maura wasn't much better off, Jane noticed, even from the back. Her customary erect posture had wilted somewhat, and her sexy red dress now looked wrinkled and sad. Cinderella had not yet come home from the ball, but her magical gown was still just barely holding onto the enchantment that kept it together. Too, her caramel brown hair had fallen or been taken down from its dignified up-do and was now hanging around her shoulders, its carefully coiffed curls now limp, separated into sections by multiple combings from nervous fingers.

Jane rapped her knuckles on the door to Brophy's room. "Hey," she announced, sheepishly, and Maura barely moved her head to acknowledge the greeting, let alone look into the face of the woman who'd left - whom she'd chased away, perhaps - the night before.

"Come in," she sighed, too tired to snap out a waspish, sarcastic apology for her appearance and remind Jane that she hadn't had a way to get home for a shower and a change.

Holding up the lattes in a tray and the bag of food, Jane coughed a little. The tray was offered in mute supplication for forgiveness of the raw fact of her own bitchiness the night before. Maura's lips, involuntarily, quirked up into a tired smile. "Buying forgiveness with coffee?"

"And a change of clothes. The nurse said you could use their shower if you want." Putting the food down, Jane dumped the gym bag on a chair, pulled out her laptop, and settled in. Clearly she was prepared to hold vigil while Maura restored herself to her normal, put-together, persona.

Maura frowned at Jane for a moment, trying to piece together if this simply meant their argument was over or not. The aroma of fresh, good, coffee won her over quickly, and Maura downed half her fluffy drink before taking her clothes to find this shower. The nurses, who had a cardboard carafe of coffee themselves, directed her to to the shower, and Maura returned perhaps fifteen minutes later, dressed in a (for her) nondescript outfit and coiffed with the damp curls of one who lacked styling wand and mousse, but feeling much better.

Jane had not left the room, but was studiously hammering away on her keyboard, reading and writing in a manner that told Maura she was IMing someone. "Frost?" she asked, sliding back into her chair.

"We got a tip last night. Someone heard a loud gunshot from the other end of the cemetery. We used the gunshot locator thing to triangulate, and Frost spec'd it out at just under 1000 meters, which is a pro shot." Jane hesitated and then turned her laptop towards Maura, showing her the initial trajectory drawings.

They both sipped their coffee, cream cheesed their bagels, and stared at the drawing. At Maura's behest, Jane ran the video twice, from different angles. "They weren't aiming at Mrs. Montague," Maura finally said, confused but decisive.

"Doesn't look that way, does it?" agreed Jane, disgruntled. "Frankie's checking the hill for casings, but the sniper probably swept up."

"Mmghm," agreed Maura around her bite of bagel and cream cheese, or rather, her bite of cream cheese with a nominal bagel coating.

Now Jane smirked, "Wanna try English?"

Maura swallowed, dabbed her lips with the paper napkin, and repeated herself. "Sorry. I agree, a professional who can make a shot like that is unlikely to be so sloppy as to fail to police his shells. Or, rather, his shell. There was only one shot, correct? Still, keep looking. He might have left it there on purpose as a message, rather than out of sloppiness." One might consider that progress; two or three years ago, Maura Isles never would have concerned herself with motives, reasons, or any other psychological aspect of the crime. Her speciality was the evidence left in bodies, not speculations. Jane was rubbing off on her. After that realization came another, and this one made her frown. "Someone was trying to kill _Daniel."_ The hand holding her napkin dropped it, uncaring of whether it fluttered to her lap or the linoleum floor, and darted back to rest atop the sleeping clergyman's forearm, an unnecessarily protective gesture.

Reaching down to pick up the napkin, Jane pointed out, "That's _a_ theory right now. He might not have been shooting to kill anyone, just scare 'em." Jane tabbed through her windows and read a statement for Maura. "The Father was giving this sermon, and suddenly mom started crying like a banshee. We all stopped, and then, like at the same time, he moved to her and she stood up. Mom's... Mom just exploded on him, he went down, and then we heard this loud noise. Everyone hit the floor and I guess someone called 911, 'cause the EMTs were there real fast. Not enough for Mom, but... there wasn't much to do." Jane tapped in a note to herself. "1000 meters... That'd take less than eighteen hundred milliseconds, and you'd hear it after you'd see it. No wonder no one had time to react till it was all over." She glanced at the comatose priest curiously.

It was premature to assume Daniel was the target, though Jane wouldn't rule that out yet. She added the tipster's notes, about where the shot probably was from, and mapped out avenues of escape. You couldn't, for example, easily bring a sniper on the MTA to Jamaica Plain. He would have had to use a car, unless he stashed the rifle somewhere nearby, or had a case that could pass for anything else. Quickly Jane pinged Frost, asking him to send unis out to check any tombs and mausoleums. While he did that, she logged in to the traffic database and checked for any red-light violations in the area around the cemetery, but came up blank. Muttering to herself, Jane said, "Sure, if I'd taken a pot shot like that, I wouldn't speed either."

Maura didn't ask for a repetition of the mumbled words; she wasn't even listening, but rather, mumbling on her own. "...feed Bass, Jo, and Aristotle," might be heard if one were nearby and paying attention. Aristotle was what she'd begun to call Jane's tortoise, who had not been formally named; it referred to Aristotle 'Tot' Rodor, sidekick to The Question, the best detective in the world according to the comics written in the DC universe. The current Question was also, on her better days, dating Batwoman. "...water the plants, get some more clothes, makeup..."

While mumbling herself was normal for Jane, it was not for Maura. It spoke strongly of her distraction and fatigue that Maura was making her mental list aloud. Once the other woman's words registered Jane looked up, startled. "Okay, that's it. You're coming home this afternoon, and you are going to nap. Then you can check email and catch up on your work, pawn off cases, whatever. We are going to have a nice dinner and go to bed early before you come back here _tomorrow_." Jane kept her voice firm and decisive. "No more spending the night here."

Distracted, Maura quickly turned her head, but it was a moment before her eyes achieved the look of someone who was truly present behind them. "But Daniel shouldn't be alone, Jane! He's hurt, he needs company, and if someone's trying to kill him -"

"Fine," agreed Jane, cutting Maura off. "I bet Ma'd be happy to sit in. And Korsak and Frost. I already asked Cavanaugh for a detail to watch the Montague kids, in case they were the targets, and he suggested one for Brophy, so a uniform'll be outside. I'll tell the head nurse and Dr. Knudsen, so they can watch for any fake doctors and nurses too." Jane looked a little smug as she gleefully covered her bases. "Plus, I bet that the church'll want to send over someone. He can sit overnight at least a couple times. That way, Daniel won't be alone if he wakes up."

At Jane's mention of a uniform being posted outside, Maura's eyes drifted to the door, where no one was currently stationed, and then to Jane's jacket, which bulged ever so slightly, indicating that Jane wore a gun on her hip. And then she noticed Jane's clothes, which derailed Maura's realization that Jane was here to both apologize to Maura and protect Daniel, _and_ that Jane was calling him Daniel and not Brophy. "You're wearing heat under that - _that_ jacket? Jane! _What_ are you _wearing?"_

With a sigh, Jane shook her head. "Packing. Packing heat, Maur, and thank God you're paying attention again. I wondered how long... It's what I had in the closet. All my good stuff is at your place."

"No, it's..." Maura paused just long enough to mentally flip through Jane's section of her closet, then through what she remembered seeing the last time she'd gone to Jane's apartment. "Oh. I guess it is, isn't it? It would be easier for you..." But again, she drifted off. There was no sense in reiterating her opinion that both their lives would be easier if Jane lived with her, no sense in starting another argument about how if she moved in, the whole world would know they were a couple. Jane was right, after all. People could be roommates at eighteen, twenty, even thirty in these days of rising housing costs and rent-sharing. But at thirty-five? Thirty-five and living together meant something other than a smart way to halve one's rent, particularly when one was well-heeled, as Maura was.

Maura wouldn't have minded being linked to Jane in people's minds. She'd have been proud to be able to call Jane hers. But Jane wasn't ready for the reciprocal label, and Maura had promised herself she wouldn't push anymore. "Well. Maybe we should both go to my place for a nap and a change of clothing, once someone else can come here to keep watch and make sure no one gets in to harm Daniel."

The smugness returned to Jane's face. Game, set, match to Rizzoli, thank you very much. "Korsak'll be here at lunchtime," she informed Maura. "And Frost said he'd take the night shift tonight." Before Maura could question this information, Jane turned the laptop towards her again, where the IM conversations confirmed this.

Mollified, Maura settled back in her seat and watched the machines Daniel was hooked up to. The beeps were familiar and while not comforting, their continuance reassured her that he was, indeed, alive. It was the first time in many years she had nothing else to busy her thoughts. Even so, time sped by and Vince arrived so soon, Maura was sure he'd arrived early. The clock in the room corrected her misperception. After leaving Vince and the newly posted uniformed officer with a string of lengthy instructions on what to do, when to call the nurses, and when to call her, Maura permitted Jane to escort her, one hand on her elbow, to the car and home.

Jane allowed Maura to eat a light lunch, but when the smaller woman began to droop at the table, she found herself bundled into bed and in dreamland before she could even ask Jane to stay with her until she fell asleep.

* * *

**Reviews and Jane will stop being such a bitch. Most of the time. (Well, no, she won't, but she'll try harder.)**


	3. Chapter 3: I Like This Kitchen

**Chapter Three - I Like This Kitchen**

It wasn't surprising that Jane was up first. At six she got up, went for a short run with Jo (which ended with Jane carrying the pup the last half mile), took a shower, and got breakfast started before Maura shuffled out of the bedroom. "You're wearing that?" asked Maura, pouring a cup of coffee and eyeing Jane's rather nice shirt combined with rather ratty jeans.

Jane rolled her eyes. "I am, actually, only wearing this for now. I couldn't find the pants I wanted without turning on the lights."

"I can't believe I slept from noon yesterday," Maura marveled, but didn't seem upset about having been unconscious for so long. "Thank you for letting me. I feel like a new person." She looked like one, too. Gone was the faint darkness she'd been nursing under her eyes - nosey-juggling folds or something like that, Jane couldn't keep it straight - and the posture that, since Daniel had been shot, made her look like the air was too heavy to let her move easily under its weight. There was another aspect to her restedness that intrigued Jane, exemplified by the look in Maura's eyes as she commented, "You know, those pants, they don't look bad."

With another eyeroll, Jane pointed out the obvious. "Cavanaugh would be about as happy if I showed up looking like hobo-day as if I did for naked-day." Still, she put down the knife that was dicing fruit and wrapped her arms around Maura for a too brief comforting hug. "You look a lot better. I tried waking you up for dinner, but you didn't even twitch. So Ma and I had pizza."

Just one night without supervision and the diet went to hell. And Maura didn't even comment on it. "I didn't say wear them to _work,_ Jane," she mentioned, sliding her arms under her lover's to bring her even closer. "But maybe just here. For me. Maybe tonight." Her voice could never be as raspy or husky as Jane's, but it was lowered in both volume and pitch to a sultry near-whisper. "For now, the navy blue trousers you want with that blouse are in the closet, third from the left."

Forgetting about the pants for a moment, Jane capitalized on Maura's improved mood with kisses. "Challenge accepted," she promised. "I wanted the grey pants, actually... I think they're at my apartment." This was said with a disgruntled sigh, but Jane made no move to let go of Maura.

Maura stiffened a little in Jane's arms. There was that argument again. Maura was so tired of the circuitous conversation that she'd privately promised not to bring it up again. Previously, this had been the point where Maura would remark on how it would be much easier if Jane just moved in, had all of her belongings at Maura's. Jane would balk, and they'd argue. "Either pair would work," Maura replied, instead of picking the fight, and pressed herself closer to Jane, reveling in her presence, warmth, and health. This time, it wasn't Jane who was in the hospital.

Stroking Maura's hair, Jane made a noncommittal noise. "You're right." She nuzzled Maura's neck. "It's silly having my stuff in two places," continued Jane, thinking about the empty feeling in her apartment the day before. "I should just move in here when my lease is up."

It was impossible not to react to Jane's lips along her neck, and Maura shivered as she tilted her head to the side. "Your brothers might be confused," she pointed out, mildly, threading her fingers through Jane's wild, still damp, hair. Maybe they could be a little late to work...

But Jane's affections to Maura's neck stopped abruptly. "That's a good point," she said, far more serious about this matter than Maura wanted to be.

_Damn it, I shouldn't have said anything,_ Maura chastised herself.

Surprisingly, Jane went on, letting go of Maura and returning to chopping vegetables and fruit. "Good point," she repeated. "You should take them out to brunch or lunch on Saturday. I'll take Korsak and Frost, so everyone finds out at the same time."

Maura was quite certain Jane was still talking because she could see the lips moving, but all Maura heard was a rushing in her head. No, a roaring of blood, pounding away, raising her heart rate. "You said what?" she asked when she'd caught her breath and the loud whooshing had subsided within her.

"Take my brothers to lunch. It was your idea, right?" Jane repeated, hearkening back to a discussion they'd had several weeks before, before Christmas. "You wanted to have that man-to-man talk. Man-to-Maura talk."

"I did," Maura replied, nervous, but determined not to express the largeness of the moment. Jane's demeanor was that of studied nonchalance; hers should be, too, or Jane might get cold feet. "I'll call before I go back to the hospital, then. Which will be after my shower."

Jane appeared puzzled, turning so that she could see her girlfriend's face. "Didn't you shower when you got up?"

Maura smiled warmly as she, too, backed up, pulling Jane along gently in the direction of the bedroom by her shirt. "I'm going to need another one. And so are you."

The tortoises could wait on breakfast just a little longer, after all.

* * *

"You know, for a guy running a gambling establishment, Montague was real clean," complained Korsak, slapping the last folder down on his desk. For the moment, they were holding off on investigating Father Brophy as the target, and instead were dealing with the actual victim. There was, after all, the possibility that someone had bought a sniper rifle without actually being a good enough shot to use it properly. Besides, the only actually dead person was a Montague.

Without looking up, Frost replied, "My dad said off track betting is why horse racing's doing so badly."

Jane and Korsak shared a mildly surprised look, but said nothing about it. "I just can't believe no one wanted him dead. He was a real prick." Jane pushed her hair back and slumped in her seat.

Grunting, Korsak mimicked Jane's pose. "His kids didn't like him very much."

Still immersed in his computer records, Frost absently remarked, "We all feel that way sometimes." Then he too sighed and sank in his chair. "I got nothing. The only kid who has any sort of a record against his folks is the youngest son. Borrowed Dad's Jag one night, Dad called it grand theft auto, made him spend the night in jail. He said he was pissed his Mom got all the money, but he didn't kill her. Doesn't have the money to pay off a hit, and he doesn't get any from his mom dying, either."

The trio lapsed into contemplative silence, shattered only by Crowe's arrival and subsequent request for an update on Father Brophy. Nearly every detective in the precinct, and more than a few patrol officers, had come by to ask Jane how Brophy was. The man was practically universally liked by the precinct. Jane was rather pleased that folks liked Brophy, it made her feel better about liking him herself, but it was damned hard to concentrate on the case when she kept getting interrupted.

Normally she'd just go downstairs and hide with Maura for a couple hours, but Maura had already turned over new cases to Dr. Pike and taken her laptop to the hospital to do paperwork while watching Daniel. The morgue would just be weird without Maura there. And creepy. "I need some more coffee," announced Jane, and she hopped up to go visit her mother in the cafe.

Four more people (a secretary, one of the guys from vice, and two traffic cops) asked about Brophy on the way. Jesus, it was getting annoying.

"How's Father Brophy?" asked Angela, as soon as she saw Jane.

"Five," sighed Jane. "Uh, I mean fine. The same. They don't think he'll wake up until tomorrow at the earliest anyway." With a yawn, Jane sat down at a table and was rewarded with not only coffee, but a bowl of granola. "Thanks, Ma."

Taking the opposite chair, Angela toyed with her own coffee cup. "Is Maura still at the hospital?"

"Yeah, but she got some sleep."

Angela nodded, "I can sit with him tonight. Lord knows he and I both sat with you and Frankie when you two were shot." That was news and Jane, mouth full with crunchy goodness, had to settle for a 'huh?' noise and arched eyebrows. "Didn't I say? Your father left while you were still the hospital."

Forcing a swallow a little too early, Jane nodded, "Yeah, I remember that."

"Well, Father Brophy didn't think it was good for me to sit alone, so he'd come by and sit with me." Angela paused before leaning forward in a hushed tone. Oh good, gossip time. "The rumor 'round is that the snipper was aiming at Father Brophy."

The urge to facepalm was strong. "Sniper, Ma. And… Well, it's likely it was him or Mrs. Montague." When her mother made a 'don't pull my leg, Jane Rizzoli' face, Jane sighed. "Probably."

And finally, someone knew the _other_ important question to ask, even if she didn't quite know why. "How's Maura?"

Jane sighed with palpable relief. "She's pretty cut up about it. They're really good friends, and she feels so bad for him, Ma. I mean, he's got no family anywhere nearby. They've all moved other places and they can't get here for one reason and another, so she's thinking she has to fill in for all of them. She was going to stay at the hospital, until I talked her into going home and resting."

Angela was impressed. "That girl," she opined in great seriousness, "is a better friend than most people will ever deserve. I can't believe more people aren't lining up to get to be friends with her."

As reasons for Maura's devotion went, that one was better than she could've hoped for, from her normally uncannily perceptive mother. "Yeah, Ma. She's the best."

She thought that was the end of it, but Angela wasn't quite finished. "But this is just awful. Who'd want to kill a priest?"

"That's what we're trying to figure out." Jane took a deep breath, "You sitting with him will make Maura feel a lot better, Ma. Thanks."

Angela looked surprised, and then with a flush of embarrassment, looked away and wiped at an invisible piece of dirt on the table. "Hmm," she finally replied. Jane smiled at her mother, and grinned more when Angela shoved her upper arm. "You just want a night alone."

Leaning over, Jane kissed her mother on the cheek. "I love you too, Ma. Come by before you go over to MassGen tonight, would you? I want to tell you something."

The public affection startled Angela enough that Jane was at the door by the time she started to shout, "Tell me what! You get back here Jane Rizzoli!"

But it was too late. Jane was already gone.

* * *

Maura picked up the phone on the first ring, "No change."

After a heartbeat of silence, Jane sighed. "I didn't think there would be. I mean, you'd call me right away if he woke up. And if he got worse, you'd just yell at me that you can't get into the OR again."

"I would not!" protested Maura, indignantly, but capitulated before Jane could even draw breath to contradict her. "Yes, I would. But I wouldn't want to."

"Glad to see you're practicing your yes-and-no lessons," Jane mumbled, deadpan.

Maura sighed and looked at Daniel. His face had grown less pinched over the last day, easing Maura's guilt for having spent the brunt of the previous 20 hours at home, asleep. Or at least in bed. So far the prognosis was as well as could be expected. There was no infection to fight off, Daniel was healthy, and but for the blood loss, collapsed lung, and hypoxia, he was really doing very well.

He was still intubated, with a ventilator regularly pushing aid into his lungs. He was still unconscious. Maura had attempted to explain to Jane that, since Daniel physically responded to painful stimuli and his pupils reacted to light he was not, in fact, in a coma, though he was in a comatose state. Flippantly, Jane pointed out it worked out the same in the end, before the sound of a horn blasted through the phone.

Pursing her lips, Maura asked, "Are you talking to me while driving?"

"I'm doing it hands free."

Struck by pique, Maura replied tartly, "That's what _she_ said." There was a lengthy silence. "Did I get that wrong?"

The muffled sound across the phone was difficult to place, until Jane wheezed, "Awesome. Six points!"

Aha! Laughter. Maura beamed and allocated points accordingly.

"God, you're going to make me crash the car one day, hon," Jane teased. "I'm on my way to talk to the cemetery workers. Frost's already there. We're going to use a laser pointer and aim it out to see if we can find where the hell the shooter was. Assuming the bullet wasn't a ricochet."

"I don't believe it was," Maura provided firmly. "Where are you getting a laser pointer that powerful, Jane?" There was a soft, subtle, noise on the phone. "Jane Rizzoli, did you 'borrow' my laser pointer again?"

"I'll bring it back!"

Maura huffed, glad Jane couldn't see her smirking. "Really?" she said, archly, in a good approximation of Jane's frustrated tone. "At any rate, according to the information Dr. Knudsen gave me, there was no indication of the damage caused by the sharper edges of a ricochet. Daniel's internal damage was in too much of a straight line for that. It would be better if you had the bullet, of course, for confirmation."

"Bulletproof confirmation," quipped Jane. "We'll have that tonight. That's the other reason we're going to the cemetery. We got the court order so we can haul the casket back... Why do we always have cases where we've got to look in a coffin?"

Maura exhaled noisily. "We don't _always_ have cases where we exhume bodies. I admit, the ones I have a… personal stake in seem to disproportionately involve them." A too-recent memory clarified itself in Maura's mind and she sucked in a breath. "You need to contact Rick."

Across the phone, Jane's voice was perplexed. "Rick? Rick who?"

Her spine stiffened as Maura explained, "Rick who works at Wal-Mart."

There was silence across the phone. Oh. That Rick. "Uh, you're gonna have to unpack that one, babe."

Guilt was creeping in, even though Maura knew she personally had nothing to feel guilt about. "He and Daniel talked once," she temporized. Jane made a noise whose meaning was clear, even to socially challenged Maura. More data, dammit. "At church. I believe Daniel was his confessor." When the silence from Jane extended uncomfortably, Maura felt the need to fill the void with words. "You understand Daniel couldn't tell me exactly what they talked about, but I was given to understand it involved me." She really didn't want to voice her concern of this possibility. If Daniel was shot because of her... If he died because of her...

Jane, thankfully, was sharp and caught on quickly. It was one of the many aspects Maura adored in her lover. "You're thinking the Wal-Mart greeter confessed to your - Uh, to Daniel, and one of his guys knew, and is trying to silence Daniel? Because we've been cleaning up Rick's old gang. Oh, _crap."_

A low groan came from the phone, which oddly made Maura feel relieved. "I think it's a possibility we shouldn't ignore." Maura knew she was temporizing, but she honestly didn't know.

"Okay, I can do that," sighed Jane, a little grimly. "I'll chase that lead down after we get the coffin. Do you want to be there when we crack it, or should I use Pike?"

Maura bit her lip. She couldn't, shouldn't, work the case, as she was Daniel's Advanced Directive, not to mention her other ties to the potential suspects. At the same time, there was nothing against the law or medical ethics concerning her presence for the unsealing itself. "I'll come and supervise," she said, determinedly. "After all, it's been over a year since I last observed Pike performing that sort of work." While Jane couldn't see her, Maura lifted her chin proudly anyway. Two could fudge the rules.

The soft laugh from Jane made her smile. "Clever. Okay, I've got to go. Want me to pick you up on the way back?"

Glancing up at the clock, Maura did a quick mental calculation. "No, one of the sisters from Greystones Abbey is coming by at lunch, and Father Imahara will be here again tonight."

"They've got nuns young enough to visit?" muttered Jane, clearly remembering the case at the Abbey, and how the average age of the nuns living there was close to 80.

"After the murder, they acquired a few transfers from more vibrant abbeys. But in this case, it's one of the nuns you and I met, Sister Polycarp." The nun in question had been rather high spirited, even in her old age of 85, and wryly said they gave her the name because she was a 'queer fish' as a young woman.

Jane snorted, "I remember her. She's 80 if she's a day. Tell her I say hello. Love you, Maura."

"She's only 86 now. And I love you too, Jane." The phone turned off and Maura sighed, pleased. It was wrong, at this time of despair, to feel so happy just to have heard Jane's simple declaration of love. "I refuse to feel guilty for loving her," she told the unconscious Daniel, certain that even had he been awake, he would have approved.

* * *

By the time Jane got home, she was tired, sore, and filthy. "Here's your laser pointer," she grumbled at the cook, tossing it onto the kitchen counter.

"That's no way to say hello," chastised Angela, busy cooking in Maura's kitchen. Jane's kitchen. The kitchen. And there was no Maura.

Mentally, Jane rolled the concept of this being 'home' around, and found it was giving her warm fuzzies. "Sorry, Ma. It's been a long day. Where's Maura?"

"And that's no way to greet your mother, Janie." Thankfully it was clear Angela was just teasing, and she softened her maternal harassment by handing Jane a cold beer.

"I love you, Ma," sighed Jane, though she didn't open the drink quite yet. "Where's Maura, and why are you cooking?"

"Did you eat lunch? You don't look like it. Here, why don't you try the appetizer I made?" Angela slid a plate over with pasta primavera alongside pepper steak, clearly avoiding telling Jane where Maura was.

Since she was clearly not going to get any reasonable conversation out of her mother right now, Jane took a bite. "This is really good. Are you using Grandma Regina's recipe?" Angela's own mother had been an amazing cook, but with a limited repertoire, and after marrying into the Rizzolis, Angela had taken it on herself to master more than a tiny slice of Italian cooking. Of course, no one made better gnocchi than Angela.

Wiping her hands, Angela nodded. "Maura had an idea to make it a little different." Jane grinned, comforted by the fact Angela was treating Maura like a daughter-in-law. "What on earth happened to you! You're filthy!"

It was probably good she was wearing one of her older outfits, "Oh, we were looking for evidence." Angela perked up like Joe Friday on the trail of a rabbit. "Don't get excited, all we found was a possible nest. Sniper's nest. There were these grooves in the dirt... never mind, Maura'll think it's cool later. Point is we didn't find anything, which is good."

"How is nothing good?"

"Well, it means the guy's a pro. He cleaned up after himself. I've got unis looking for the weapon, in case he ditched it." Instead of dwelling on her lack of success, Jane went over the day's various conversations in her head and smiled. The great detective had the answers. "Ma, did Maura tell you I'm moving in?"

Her mother turned pink at the ears. Bingo. "She doesn't want you to be mad! It just slipped out when I came over, so I thought I should make you two dinner!" Jane shook her head and went to kiss her mother's cheek. "You're not mad?"

"No, Ma, I'm not mad." Now Jane opened the beer and sipped it.

But Angela still looked worried. "I was worried you were dragging your heels because I live here too. No one wants to move back in with their mother."

Now Jane frowned, "You're staying?"

Her mother's eyes widened. "You're kicking me out?"

"What! No, Ma! Wait, wait. What, exactly, did Maura 'let slip?' And where is she anyway?"

Angela put down the spoon and took a deep breath. "Maura's walking your dog. And she said you two were going to move in together. That's all."

And that made less sense, in regards to Angela's attitude. _You'd think dating women, or a woman, would give me some insight into them_, Jane thought to herself. "Yeah, she left out the part where I was gonna suggest you move in to my old apartment."

With a pained expression, Angela looked away. "I can't afford that, Janie." She was clearly embarrassed. "Your father... It... the house didn't sell for enough."

"I know. I harassed him till he paid off the debt. It was his, not yours Ma. I've got a cashier's check for you." Jane grinned at her mother's startled expression. It wasn't often she got to actually surprise Angela. "So... you want to take over my lease? Come on, it's a nice part of town, closer to work, Frankie and Tommy... Vince."

The last name startled Angela out of her stupor and she smacked Jane's arm. "Jane!" The blush had gotten worse, and Jane made a note to tease Korsak about it later.

"The neighbors are quiet," Jane mentioned to sweetened the pot.

Still, Angela hesitated. "I don't know..."

"Parking's included, Ma."

"Sold."

* * *

"It was really very nice of Angela to make us dinner," Maura pointed out, as she and Jane put away the dishes.

Jane bounced her bare heels off the cabinets, as she sat on the kitchen island. "Well she's excited to get her own place." After agreeing to move into Jane's apartment, Angela had quickly jumped into the packing and planning. By the time Maura had gotten home, Jane had agreed to move out by the end of the week. At first Jane was terrified how soon it was, but when she realized she barely had anything at her place (clothes, books, and DVDs had all migrated over to Maura's in the last 6 months), it was hardly an effort at all.

"It's awfully soon, though, Jane."

"Hey, I thought you wanted me to move in with you." The drumming of her heels stopped and Jane looked concerned. "If you don't want me to-"

Quickly Maura put a hand on Jane's knee. "I do. It's really just very fast. We only decided this yesterday." Maura paused, realizing all the things she had to do. "I haven't even talked to an agent yet." While Jane looked confused, Maura went on with a little mournful whine. "And I really love this kitchen."

Jane looked around the kitchen. "When you had this whole kitchen done to match the old place, I kind of guessed you liked it."

With a heavy sigh Maura turned around. "And the taxes... The city taxes really are unfairly high, especially for your income. And parking. I'll have to talk to my accountant. Maybe if I put more money into charitable donations... Of course selling this house wouldn't be as onerous as it might have been a year ago."

"Maura, sweetie, what are you _talking_ about?" Jane put her glass down and studied Maura's face, though she really couldn't understand what an agent or an accountant had to do with anything. "Once Ma moves out, I can park where she does..."

"I'm talking about moving!"

Jane gave Maura a blank stare. "Yeah. So am I. I'm moving. Are you worried about where the moving van'll fit? I don't have that much stuff left there."

"No, Jane!" Maura couldn't understand how Jane was so obtuse, "_We're_ moving!"

"We are? What? I thought you loved this place."

"I do love it."

"You've lost me, hon. Why are we moving?"

Exasperated, Maura threw her hands up, "Because we have to move into the city!" She knew her voice was getting shrill, but she couldn't help it.

Still mystified, Jane sought more clarification. "Since when?"

"Since 1995," replied Maura with exasperation.

Jane took a long look at her exceptionally frustrated girlfriend. "Maura, I didn't know you in 1995. Hell, I didn't meet you till you got hired on at BPD, which was ten whole years later. I was in junior college in 1995."

Her hands stayed in the air as Maura used them to punctuate her words, "That's exactly the point." She started ticking out points on her fingers, nearly flinging them at Jane. "You were in college in 1997. The Boston Police Department requires all officers hired subsequent to 1995 to live within Boston city limits. You took your officer's oath when you graduated from the police academy in 1997."

Finally it seemed Jane was catching on, as she slouched a little and frowned. "Yeah, but I started working as a police cadet the first week of 1995."

Or not. Maura made a frustrated noise, almost like a dog who couldn't get her bone. "That's still-"

This time Jane didn't let Maura cut in, and pushed forward. "...Because I got _hired_ at the tail-end of 199_4_. Best Christmas present ever," she added gleefully, and then quickly amended, "except for that one when you-"

"Yes, I remember." Hasty, that cutoff, but then, Maura was never quite certain that Angela didn't lurk behind a door or a window, cracked to receive the fresh and unseasonably warm breeze. She was aware that Angela knew they got up to some manner of romantic shenanigans, but preferred to spare her the details, and to spare Jane knowing that Angela knew the details. They had strangely high boundaries. "But does that mean we-"

Now Jane was a little exasperated, "That's what I'm saying. _We_ don't have to move. _I_ have to move. _You_ have to clear out half the closet."

"_Half?"_ Effective distractionary technique, Jane. Points awarded: nine. "But you don't have nearly as many clothes as I do!"

Jane's eyes twinkled. "Gotcha. Come on, you know I don't even have a suitcase of stuff back at my place anymore. I just have to clean it up for Ma, get the rest of my books and movies and pictures, and that's it. I get to move in _here_."

As the realization that she would not have to move crept into Maura's body, she felt both relieved and embarrassed. Her skin felt hot. "Oh. You should have told me that before," she complained to Jane, not actually angry at her girlfriend.

Jane swung her long legs out and hooked them around Maura, pulling her in for a hug that involved all of her lengthy limbs, "Sweetie, I wouldn't have planned it for next week if you were going to have to sell this place."

"That wasn't funny," grumbled Maura, but allowed Jane's affection to sooth her pride.

"It really wasn't," Jane agreed.

The petite doctor wriggled around so she could rest her head against Jane's chest. Pressing her cheek against the detective's cleavage, she sighed. "I really like this kitchen. I was a little upset about the prospect of leaving it."

Jane stroked Maura's hair and while she didn't laugh, Maura could feel the slightly giddy tension in the legs that held her in place. "It's a great house. I think we're both happy here, right? No reason to leave. But we've got to put up a privacy wall, or some kind of tall shrubbery before Constance comes back, cause I don't want to have to explain why she needs noise canceling headphones."

"Mother already knows I can be a bit vocal." It was a little obvious, felt Maura, since her mother had accidentally overheard Maura and a partner on more than one occasion already. "Besides, she likes you. And Father has earplugs."

Groaning, Jane leaned back, to Maura's displeasure. Getting to lean against Jane's softer parts (of which there were surprisingly many) was one of Maura's many favorite things. "Your parents know... Of course they do." She sighed. "_So_ not a turn-on, babe."

Maura made a mental note of that for the future.

* * *

**Sister Polycarp (and much of her history as you will come to learn later) is from the Rumer Godden book "In This House of Brede," which is a novel about Benedictine Nuns in the 1950s and 60s in England.**

**Review and you'll get to hear funny stories about Sister Polycarp and a goat. And you'll get to see Jane tell people she's moving in with Maura. You're welcome.**


	4. Chapter 4: The Priest's Closet

**Chapter Four - The Priest's Closet**

* * *

"One of these days I'm gonna need an office," complained Jane as she walked back into the bullpen.

Korsak glanced up from his computer, "You bring coffee?"

"Do I look like I brought coffee?" snapped Jane. "Look at my hands. Are they filled with coffee cups? No? Maybe you think I can just press my nose and it'll come pouring out of my belly button?"

Frost whistled softly and looked away, muttering "Damn" under his breath. "I'll get the coffee," he announced, and slunk off, wanting to get as far as possible from the Korsak/Rizzoli bitch-fest.

"Then where were you?" Korsak pushed himself away from his desk and slouched, seemingly stumped by the day's lack of progress.

"Hunting down a lead, came up to nothing. Story of the damn case." After Maura's suspicion of her father, Jane had called up the FBI for a quick tête-a-tête about the possibility of organized crime's involvement. Anna Farrell (thankfully not Gabriel Dean) had been available to verify that there was no movement from that part of the seedy underbelly of the crime world known as Wal-Mart, nor from any of Patrick Doyle's former associates. In short, whoever shot the priest was on his own.

Korsak grumped and threw a notebook down on his desk. Both he and Jane watched it bounce off the edge and onto the floor, taking a desk calendar of cuddly animal pictures with it. "So we got nothing. Day three and we got no idea who shot Father Brophy."

Picking up the notebook, Jane handed it over to her partner. "Did Frost catch you up on what we found at the nest?"

"Yeah, and I had CSU go take a second look. The guy was good. Policed his brass, didn't leave any DNA. We got all the leaves on the ground from the tree he was in, at least. I figured Maura'd want us to get the leaves and dirt and stuff from the nook." Korsak made a gesture with his hands, indicating the crotch of the tree, but Jane decided not to correct his terminology.

Frost returned with three coffees. "I wish your mother was working today." Each detective took their coffee and sipped. And winced. Stanley's coffee. "I still don't get why anyone would want to kill a priest. I wouldn't even want that Metzov idiot dead."

"I know a lot of parents who don't feel as charitable," sighed Jane. Not many people had nice things to say about Metzov, even Brophy.

Looking a little forlorn, Frost asked, "We're going to have to dig into his life, aren't we?"

Jane winced, hoping it wasn't too obvious. She was not going to mention this investigative track to Maura, no way, no how. "It's probably something recent, though," she temporized, hoping to keep the part of Brophy's life that directly involved Maura out of the limelight.

"Maybe he was sleeping with somebody's wife," suggested Korsak, and Jane had to fight not to spit her coffee out over the table.

Jane managed to swallow without burning her throat. "Uh, I'm pretty sure not, Korsak."

"Yeah but how can you know? I mean look at Metzov."

That was a thought. Jane frowned. "Yeah, look at him. He was an ass, and we all knew it. And Brophy, man, he volunteers here, he's at Dignity Boston, and he has his own parish and…" Jane stopped. There was a thought, niggling at the back of her head that just wouldn't solidify. "He's just a really good guy. Why would anyone want to hurt him?"

"Haters gon' hate," sighed Frost, rubbing his face.

The thought clicked. "Haters gonna hate a gay-friendly Catholic," she muttered.

Frost grabbed it first. "Sniper associated with a fringe religious group? Isolated. Like the David Koresh guys in Waco?"

While Jane couldn't say she was pleased at the idea, it was better than the idea that Daniel's relationship with Maura would be the cause of the shooting. The only two people in the world who might shoot Daniel Brophy because of Maura were herself and Maura's father. Jane knew _she_ didn't do it, and she chose to believe Rick Dale's assertion that he hadn't, either. _What? Shoot a priest, are you kidding me? You go straight to hell for that._ No, God bless that superstitious old hit man, he wouldn't dare.

"So, where do we start looking for the new Waco Wackos?" Korsak wanted to know.

Jane considered. "Well, it was a hell of a shot, first off. You'd have to be seriously good to pull it off, right?"

Frost immediately turned back to his computer. "Let me just get on that. I'll look up all military snipers with that level of ability, and see if I can find similar feats among previous shootings in the past... what, five years? Ten?"

"Five for now," Korsak suggested. "I'll go ask Father Brophy's office assistant if they keep hate mail that he gets, or that the church gets, and see if I can find somebody serious enough. Oh, and what time is it?"

"Nine twenty-eight," Frost replied. "Why?"

"Damn. Next round of coffee's on me, Jane. You had nine-oh-one to nine-thirty, and I had nine-thirty-one to ten before he brought in the computer."

"Self high five," replied Jane with a touch of triumph. This day was getting better already. "Okay, while you two dig into that, I'm going to dig into Brophy." That way, if she found anything related to Maura, she could keep it on ice until and unless it turned out to be relevant. _I wonder if this counts as evidence tampering. I wonder if this makes me a dirty cop. Okay, let's think about something else._ "Hey, before I go... Uh... Okay, this is going to sound really stupid and weird but can I take you guys out to brunch on Saturday?"

Korsak and Frost exchanged a confused look. "You aren't pregnant, are you?" asked Korsak, worried.

"God! No, no I'm not pregnant. I just want to… talk to you guys about something. Outside work. Okay? So brunch at Lorenzo d'Oregano. It's around the corner from my apartment."

"You in trouble, Rizzoli?" Frost asked, coming up for air from his computer search. "What's going on?"

"What's going on is," Jane repeated, "I just offered you free food, so just say yes and we'll talk on Saturday."

"Yes."

"Yes."

"Good."

Korsak cleared his throat, "What time is brunch, anyway?"

"Halfway between breakfast and lunch. So about ten o'clock."

"Got it."

"We'll be there."

* * *

"Good morning, Polly," Maura said with a smile. It was their agreed-upon compromise for a name. Sister Polycarp had said she preferred the name given her upon taking orders; Maura reminded her that she was an only child and not a Catholic, and therefore calling her a sister would be inappropriate and inaccurate; the nun had offered a nickname for Maura to use. They got along well after that.

"Morning, Peaches." Another nickname. Their first meeting, she had made reference to Maura's peaches-and-cream complexion and sighed over her own, which had been similar in her youth, but was now spotted with age and hung tiredly from her facial bones, gravity being disrespectful of the elderly. "Did you bring them?"

One hand, its manicure having lost the sheen of recentness, held up a bag of Jelly Belly candies. "I always keep my word. And you?"

A book emerged from within the voluminous folds of her habit. "Illuminations from Books of Hours from the fifteenth century until the present." Both women smiled as they exchanged their treats. "There's been no change since I got here after Lauds." While Greystones Abbey was not a contemplative order, and the nuns generally on the elderly side, Sister Polycarp attended as many of the hours of office as possible, and preferred to keep to the Abbey these days.

Maura sighed as she took the seat on the other side of the hospital bed, the one closest to, and with its back facing, the door. "Still, I'm grateful that you were here. I know his family would be, too. I'll tell them. And I know Father Brophy will be appreciative of your prayers, you and your sisters who come here."

"And those of us who stay," remarked the sister. "We believe in the power of prayer to heal. All the sisters, even those who never had the pleasure of working with Father Brophy, pray for his health, just as we did for that nice Detective Rizzoli." Most of the nuns that had met Jane on that rather memorable case had been less than pleased with her forthright and assertive attitude. At the time, Sister Polycarp had muttered that they could have used a few more novices like Jane.

Aware that her own thoughts on the subject of prayer would not be received well (to wit: prayer, like worrying, presented one with the illusion that one was doing something constructive), Maura merely replied, "I know that your presence made her family feel much more able to deal with their stress at that time." And her own, in fact, though not because of their prayers. Simply because it was nice to know that Jane and Frankie had never been alone, and that the sisters hardly ever stopped murmuring those prayers, and she had an idea that their voices had been soothing. Certainly the machines' beeps had sounded more regular and a bit less frantic with those rhythmic readings and utterances giving definition to time and a sense of not-aloneness to their semi-conscious bodies.

Maura wondered occasionally whether the various nuns and priests were similarly pleased to have someone else beside this hospital bed with them. Fortunately, Father Imahara had assumed that she was a cousin or some other relative of Father Brophy's, and the majority of the others had accepted that as a reasonable explanation. It had saved Maura from having to explain further. None of the nuns or priests who had kept vigil over Father Brophy in her absence (or, as she thought of it, on her behalf) would have been pleased to know of the nature of their connection, Maura knew.

She also knew that the majority would not have approved of the fact that they were watching him for her while she went home at night to "that nice Detective Rizzoli." But Maura Isles was practiced at the art of discretion. Most of the time, no one ever even asked her the questions that she would find uncomfortable to answer truthfully, or too complicated to answer with anything more misleading.

The question of her agnosticism had actually been the easiest bone to toss those who asked her anything that seemed to require an answer. It expressed a lack of belief, but also a lack of absolute disbelief; and it established the fact that as a non-Catholic, she considered herself outside their authority, real or imagined. Therefore, they could tolerate her even if they didn't like her, and they didn't keep asking her to come to church or to pray with them.

Then there was Sister Polycarp. Most of the nuns Jane and Maura had met previously had been elderly, save the deceased, and as such, only Sister Polly, as everyone called her, had been present both in the hospital and at the Abbey when Maura had met Daniel. She was, in fact, the one church representative in the hospital who was fully aware that Maura was no relative, and merely a good friend. "It's a pity Father Brophy's family can't be here," she admitted, tucking the Jelly Bellys away.

Maura looked over quickly, and picked up her coffee to hide behind. "Their distance is difficult to overcome," agreed Maura carefully.

Polly pursed her lips. "I won't tell Father Imahara, dear. He's still more of a man than a priest, you know." At Maura's confused look, the nun settled in her chair and explained. "When I was a novice, we had nearly seventy sisters at the Abbey. When you met us, we had dwindled to less than thirty and feared we would be asked to close our doors. But seventy women, all living together, working, praying... we understand the familial ties born of friendship. It's something women can grasp more easily than men, at least in my experience. Even a woman like me, all brash knees and elbows, finds friendship and love with her sisters. Men don't really understand that very well."

Maura's brow lifted. "Father Imahara doesn't understand friendships turning filial because he's a man?" she rephrased slightly, to be sure of her comprehension.

"That's right." Sister Polycarp was complacent, letting a Jelly Belly melt over her tongue.

Maura's head tilted. "And Father Brophy understands because...?"

"Father Brophy was always more of a priest than a man. I liked that about him." The nun clucked her tongue once, "Father Imahara will learn."

Maura couldn't argue what she knew firsthand to be the case; the truth would not serve anyone. Therefore she went with saying nothing at all. "I see." She lapsed into silence to consider the matter, but quickly her mind flitted elsewhere. What could she say that would present a different subject over which the black-habited woman could muse? Oh. There it was. "Why the habit?"

To clarify, the sister gestured at her attire and, when Maura nodded, said, "Out of habit, I suppose." Cheeky nun. "There are many reasons, of course. It serves as a uniform by which all can recognize us, it's modest, it fits with our working life." And there she paused with a chortle. "When I was a novice, we still kept some of our own animals. One afternoon, the goats got out and we had to round them all up. One of them jumped the fence, so I, being all of twenty-two, took off after it. I tucked my skirts into my belt, jumped the fence in one go, and brought it back." Sister Polycarp's eyes sparkled as she remembered her youthful exuberance. "The Sister in charge of the Novitiate had words about me showing my knees to the neighbors, and I pointed out that we _were_ women, even if we were nuns." Carefully, she smoothed the habit across her knees. "I've changed in my thinking on that a bit since then. But even in secular life, I was never as put-together as you are."

The comment took Maura a bit aback, and she glanced down at herself, unable for a second to remember what she'd put on that morning. Normally it was something she enjoyed thinking about, and each outfit gave her a different mood, a different way of presenting herself as well as a different way of thinking about herself. It kept her aware of her actions, as well as being simple entertainment. When had she last given it any real thought? Oh, right. Just before Daniel had been shot. Today she wore a grey dress, darker grey heels, lighter grey shrug. The previous day had been, what, greens? browns? She could not remember. "Oh. Thank you. I didn't even think about it when I put it on this morning." It was the bald truth.

"You are quite the exception to many rules. I'm glad Danny has you as a friend." Somehow, the sister missed Maura's brief moment of terror, indicated only by a slight widening of her eyes. "We're not supposed to use nicknames, or rather weren't, but then they named me for a fish."

Flustered, Maura managed to find a modicum of salvation in facts. "I thought Polycarp was a second-century Greek Christian."

"Quite! He was one of the Apostolic Fathers, as it happens. I think they were hoping his serenity and leadership would touch me and smooth my rough edges. He was a bishop, you see. Of course, he was also bound and burned at the stake, or at least they tried to do that to him. The fire wouldn't burn him, so they stabbed him to death instead. I was never sure if I should take that as a warning..." Sister Polycarp shook her head. "At least I wasn't given the name Wilgefortis." There followed the abridged description of a woman who hadn't wanted to get married, so she'd prayed, and the Lord had blessed her with a beard. As with many of these stories, the end had been less salutary, as the woman's father crucified her.

Maura hardly knew what to say to that. Fortunately she didn't have to come up with anything, as there was a change to the patterns of Daniel's machines. "Press the call button," she ordered the nun, surging to her feet to stand by Daniel. Carefully she read the diagnostics as she heard Polly calling out in a rather strong and bold voice for a nurse.

Daniel's eyes opened before the nurses arrived, and Maura took his hand. "Don't try to speak. You're intubated. Do you understand me? Blink twice."

Blink. Blink. Pause. Blink blink.

As little use as that would have been to most people, Maura had an answer to what she thought the question might be. "You were shot during the Montague funeral. Do you remember that?"

Blink. Blink. Pause. Blink blink blink.

"We don't know who shot you," she answered, "but Jane's looking into it."

Blink blink blink. Blink blink blink.

"No, Mrs. Montague died, and I'm very sorry to have to tell you that. But no, you're not dead, and this isn't heaven."

Blink.

"Of course I think that's where you'd go, if I believed in it."

Blink-blink-blink-blink. Hand squeeze.

"Well, thank you." Maura tried not to blush, glancing at the nun which Daniel hadn't even noticed. It was flattering, after all, but imagine _her_, an angel. That would be the day, wouldn't it? Could angels be agnostics? Could agnostics be angels? Better stem the tide of _that_ line of questioning before there were more questions. "Sister Polycarp from the Greystones Abbey is here with me. She's called for a nurse, and I'm sure they'll want to check on you. I'll stay here if you'd like."

Daniel's eyes flicked from Maura to just past her. He didn't seem to be focusing very well, but that wasn't abnormal for these moments. Sister Polycarp heaved herself to her feet and shuffled around to take Daniel's other hand. "Hello, Father Brophy. Nice to have you back with us again. I was worried I'd have to find a new bridge partner."

Blink blink. Blink.

The nun smiled more broadly, "Oh we had Father Imahara take care of that. I know, I know, he'll be miserable, but it's good for him. Builds character."

Maura glanced up towards the nun. Maybe Jane's joking assertion of nun superpowers... No. They just paid attention to people, the same way she did. With any luck, Sister Polycarp would have paid more attention to Daniel and to her prayers and Jelly Belly candies than to Maura.

"Well, isn't that just sweet," came an amused voice from the doorway as Dr. Knudsen walked in, followed by a nurse who really needed to calm down a bit. "Hey, Father. I see you triumphed over death." Ah, Catholic jokes.

Maura stood and stepped aside, as did the nun on the other side of the bed, to let the medical personnel perform their examination. She did, however, lay a hand on one of his feet so he would know she was still there. The good sister did the same. "Will it disturb your work if I call Jane from here?"

"Nah, go ahead," replied Knudsen. "We won't have to ask our patient questions and get answers, so you won't drown us out."

Maura pulled out the cellphone from her purse and dialed with her free hand. Shortly Jane's voice came across the line, and Maura sighed with relief even before she said, "Father Brophy's awake. I thought you'd like to know."

There was a thump and then a cough before Jane replied. "He's awake? Is he... Okay?"

"Responsive to verbal communication," Maura said as if she was an old hand at describing the qualities of live patients. "Also to touch; he felt me holding his hand. Able to communicate, though not verbally, because he's still intubated. Probably will be for a few days. Dr. Knudsen is examining him right now, and has expressed no surprise or distress, so I'm taking it that he's as well as ever he could be expected to be."

"Thank God," murmured the devout sister beside her.

"Thank God," said Jane as well, though it was highly unlikely she'd heard the nun's remark. "You holding up okay? Do you need me to come there? I'm nearly done here."

Aware of the odd echo in Jane's words, Maura wondered aloud, "Where, exactly, is here?"

"The closet." A brief pause and Jane made a slight groan while Maura pressed her lips together in effort not to smile. It would be inappropriate. "I'm in Daniel's closet."

Twin honey-brown eyebrows jerked upwards. "Why are you in there?" she asked, a trifle alarmed, her vocal tone suggesting that that was a situation that needed rectifying. It was one thing for Jane to know that Maura had once had a different, more intimate relationship with the man lying in the hospital bed, but to actually go among his personal items was a bit odd.

Again, Jane sighed. "Someone had to, Maura. Come on, you know it's standard protocol to search the vic's place. I thought, y'know, it'd better be me than CSU. If I let them in, they'd find... something." The layers to what Jane was implying were not missed. "Like a pair of gloves." Jane was not capable of saying that without a little rancor. "Hat, a scarf, glasses..."

"_Oh."_ Maura cleared her throat, glancing at Sister Polycarp. "There might be glasses. I lost a pair during the... that time period." Daniel didn't wear any; his eyes were excellent. Maura, on the other hand, generally wore contacts during the day, and glasses only at night when the contacts had come out.

Dryly, Jane said, "You mean like a pair of Prada reading glasses?" Yes, Jane was clearly unhappy to have found them. "Do I need to go look for a pair of panties, Maura?" While Jane did proclaim to be 'over' the fact that Maura slept with Daniel, she still found it hard to be totally reasonable about it all the time.

"No!" Maura was horrified. "I never st... Can we talk about this later?" She sent a fervent possibly-prayer towards a possibly-non-existent deity that her phone's sound was audible only to herself and not to the sister directly beside her.

After a moment, Jane sighed loudly. "Sorry, I'm being a bitch." There was a sound, as if Jane was kicking something. "It'd be a lot easier if he was a jerk, that's all. I _like_ the guy, but it... rankles me. Okay? I'm not jealous of him, I'm just..."

Quietly, Maura offered the word, "Human?"

"Yeah. And a bitch."

"Yes," Maura agreed with fondness, "but you're _my_..."

If it was possible to hear eyebrows rising over the phone, Maura would have heard them then. "Out of curiosity, where are you right now? And who are you with?"

"I'm in D- Father Brophy's room, with Dr. Knudsen, Nurse..." Maura leaned forward, "Nurse Dryer, and Sister Polycarp." She paused, listening to the sounds at the other end of the line. "Why are you laughing?"

And yet Jane kept laughing. "Because this time it's funny." There was the sound of a door closing, and Jane added, "I'm done here, so I'm going to my apartment to clear out my books and DVDs, and then... How about you come home and we can celebrate Daniel waking up?"

Maura looked at Daniel, who was being attended to by the nurses and blinking at various questions. "I don't... I still don't think he should be alone."

It was not Jane, but Sister Polycarp who chimed in, "Dear, you have a job and a life and responsibilities. The sisters and I are perfectly capable of keeping Father Brophy company while he's here. And those nice uniformed men won't be far away." She wiggled her fingers at the grim uniformed cop by the door. "Until you catch your killer, just think of it as our way of thanking you for solving both those cases."

Even Daniel took the time to blink at her.

Later, Maura would have to ask Jane how much she was joking about nuns being telepathic. "Alright," she capitulated to the three Catholics. "I'll just wait until Dr. Knudsen finishes and... When are we exhuming the slug?"

"Monday. The morgue's a little behind right now."

Maura was quiet, reminded all of a sudden that life had gone on outside this room, whether she participated in it or not. Life, and duties that she was shirking by being here. "I should be there."

But if she was there, she knew she would be thinking she ought to be here instead. There was really no way to do the right thing in both places. God-or-no-one knew she'd been trying, devoting at least a few hours a day to the hospital, a few to her job, and trying to catch sleep when she could, but there just wasn't time for everything. What had suffered the most hadn't been her job or Daniel, either. It was sleep. She was just so tired.

"You've been swamped," said Jane, wisely. "Go home. Get some rest. If you haven't got your health, you haven't got anything."

"Of all the lines from that movie, I never expect you to quote the boring ones."

"I'll show you boring when you get home."

"Could you show me something besides boring?" Dr. Knudsen began to smile even as she left the room, having completed her examination, and took Nurse Nervous with her.

"As you wish."

* * *

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	5. Chapter 5: Man to Maura

**Chapter Five - Man to Maura**

"You're wearing that?" asked Maura, as Jane came out from the bedroom.

"We've had this conversation before," quipped Jane. She was dressed in a pair of her more comfortable jeans, but with one of the nicer shirts Maura had gotten her. Maura stuck out her bottom lip, pouting. "Okay, what's wrong."

Maura looked and Jane's lower half. "Those jeans do nothing for you."

"So? It's not like I'm going on a date, Maura. So what if my ass doesn't look hot in these pants?"

Patiently Maura set down the crossword puzzle and pen to explain. "It's not about looking hot. It's about looking your best, which leads to feeling confident, when you go to tell your partners about something important to you. Didn't you buy another pair recently that you said made you feel like Wonder Woman in disguise? Those would be appropriate to wear. They'll give you that little boost of... of... badassery."

"You still can't swear without feeling awkward, can you?"

"Not fluently."

"All right," Jane replied as she bent down to give her lover a kiss on the cheek. "I'll go change the jeans." As she turned to go back to the bedroom, she gave Maura a once over. "Are you going to wear that when you see my brothers?"

Maura looked down at her own attire. In deference to the indecisive spring weather they'd been having, she was dressed in lightweight layers. Her dress was just bright enough to hint at the coming bloom, but the light jacket made sure to imply the casual, but serious nature of the luncheon. Brunch. "What's wrong? Do I have a stain?"

Holding her hands in front of her own chest, Jane pointed out, "It's kind of boobs-o'clock there, sweetie."

"Well, Jane, I have breasts, just like you."

"Not _just_ like me." Jane's hands motioned towards her own breasts with a small gesture, then forward in Maura's direction with her hands shaping around two rather large hunks of air. "I don't want Tommy to be stuck on staring at them."

Maura brightened a bit too much for Jane's liking. "Do you think he would?"

"My _brother_."

"Right." Maura subdued her joy at being appreciated. "But I don't think they'll really be thinking about that at all, once I tell them."

Jane shook her head, "You know, there's a real good chance Tommy'd start thinking about that thing guys _always_ think about." As soon as she saw Maura's expression, Jane took pity and spelled it out. "Two girls at the same time."

"Their _sister._"

"Oh, I know," Jane replied, her voice deeper with annoyance. "Which is why we shouldn't accidentally encourage those thoughts." She pointed at Maura's cleavage. "A little less today? At least until they get used to the whole idea of their sister banging the hottest woman in the state."

"I was going to let them get a good look today, and then tell them I was with you. My hypothesis is that they'll be so offended and grossed out by the idea that these are reserved for their sister that they'll stop thinking of my breasts as anything special. They'll be off limits, even in their own minds."

Jane crossed her arms and waited until, slightly miffed, Maura stomped towards the bedroom. "Oh, fine. Have it your way. I'll change. But this dress was the perfect balance of casual and serious. Now I have to redo my makeup and hair, too. If I'm late, I'm blaming you."

"Yeah, that's _so_ not gonna help Tommy's imagination."

* * *

True to its name, Lorenzo d'Oregano smelled wonderful. It was that pleasing aroma of exotica meeting homey comfort, and other than her mother's cooking, which she was genetically compelled to feel was the best in the world, it was Jane's favorite place to get Italian.

"Rizzoli, party of three," she told the hostess, "and I'm not sure when my two friends will get here."

"Right behind you," came Korsak's voice from behind her, and Jane smiled, then got a flutter of nervousness in her stomach.

"Okay, well, we've got one more coming," Jane said as she turned back to the hostess, who seated them promptly at a fairly good table and left them with three menus, one at the empty spot.

Korsak looked nervous as well, fiddling with his menu and ordering a Virgin Mary. "Listen, Jane, can we talk real fast before Frost gets here?"

"Sure, Vince." Jane tried to keep her voice calm and casual. This was just lunch. Brunch. She was just going to tell her partners than she'd been keeping a secret from them for nearly two years. God. Jane covered her case of the nerves by downing half of her iced tea. Instead of launching into his topic du jour, Vince took time to put a napkin on his lap and swirl his celery stick in his drink. "Later that same day?" she grumbled.

Quirking a smile, Vince put his hands on the table. "It's about your mother, Angela." He swallowed visibly and stared at the backs of his hand. "I don't know... I like your mother, Jane."

"Yeah, so do most people. I think it helps when you're not related to her, though."

This won her a slight dirty look from Vince. "I mean, I _like_ her, Jane. I - we went out to dinner a couple times since Christmas. You know, friends-like, but I was hoping maybe for..." He trailed off and glanced up at Jane's face. "More."

Jane lent back in her chair and regarded Vince Korsak. It wasn't that she didn't know about his infatuation with her mother. A newborn could have seen that coming. And she knew her mother felt the same way, at least a little, if those blushes meant anything. "Okay," she replied, slowly. Jane and Maura had spent not a few hours talking about the implications of Vince becoming 'family,' and both agreed that not only would it make Angela happy, but it might keep her out of their hair a little more.

"Okay?"

"Yeah, okay. So you like my Ma, I kinda noticed."

Vince narrowed his eyes, "Jesus, Janie, why do you gotta make this hard? I'm trying to ask if you're okay with me asking your mother out on a real date. And... And if you think she'd want to date me."

Fighting back a smile, Jane nodded. "It's a lot easier if you just ask that, Vince, instead of beating around the bush." Vince snorted, but looked sheepish. "Look, if you like Ma, ask her out. She's a grown-ass woman. As long as you treat her right and make her happy, then that's what matters."

Now Vince lent back and regarded Jane. "Oh." They sat there for a moment, just looking at each other. "I don't think she likes me the way I like her."

_Oh my god, I'm in high school again_, thought Jane. "I kinda think she does, Vince."

Both of Vince's eyebrows went up. "So how come she never lets me drive her home?"

Jane would have slapped her head if she wasn't in public. _Because she doesn't want you to see her daughter's car parked outside Maura's place every night._ But she couldn't say that just yet. Where the hell was Frost anyway? "That's... Um. That's why I wanted to talk to you and Barry, actually, Vince." Jane looked over to the door. "I promise you, it's not you."

"Oh," he said again. Eloquent Vince was not.

They were spared getting further down that rabbit hole by Barry's arrival. Pleat-front dockers, long-sleeved collared shirt, and a sweater vest. An argyle sweater vest. "Really, Barry?" What was it about people and clothes today, anyway? At least Korsak had worn jeans and a casual button down, like Jane.

"What?" Barry asked. "Hey, if you don't want to see weekend me, you don't ask me to come to brunch on a weekend." He took the empty seat at table, nodding thanks as their waiter filled all their glasses with ice water, and picked up his menu. He'd pick something before the waiter was through with the other two. First things first. Big important Jane discussions would have to come after he was assured of a meal.

"Oh, um," Vince hurried to check the menu. "Denver omelette with the toast instead of hash browns, and some orange juice. Please."

Jane echoed, "That sounds good, but could I have apple... No, never mind. Orange juice for me, too."

Barry had thought both of them would take a bit longer, but apparently they'd gotten themselves together better than he'd thought they would. "Uh. Steak and eggs and a tomato juice."

"Really?" Jane murmured with an arched eyebrow.

Barry smiled smugly. "You said you were buying. Hell yes, I'm having steak and eggs." All three of them handed over their menus to the server, who disappeared with a smirk. Now she knew who to set the check in front of later. "So, what's up, Jane? You pregnant?"

"For Chrissakes, no. I told you that on Friday. I swear, if-"

Barry broke into her frustrated near-rant. "Relax. I'm messing with you. I know you're not pregnant, but seriously, what's going on?"

Here it was. Both men leaned forward, hanging onto whatever words they expected to come out of her lips, and Jane suddenly didn't have any to give them. She reached for her water glass to moisten her dry mouth, hoping Maura was having a better time of it with her brothers across town.

* * *

Maura settled into her seat at the best rib-joint in Boston. According to Maura. Jane had suggested a different place, Hog Heaven, but Maura put her foot down and said the only restaurant with plastic tableclothes she would visit was Captain Tony's for the spuckies, and she would only go with Jane. That was how she'd selected her own personal favorite rib joint. It wasn't too upscale, so the boys wouldn't feel out of place, and it had lighter fare for Maura to enjoy, since she wasn't about to eat ribs for brunch.

As the waiter came to pour her a water glass, Maura smiled her thanks and added aloud, "There will be two gentlemen joining me. Both have dark hair, olive skin, and are fairly well muscled."

"Lucky you," the waiter winked as he put out extra menus at the booth.

Maura was quick to try to dissuade him, "N-no, not... not... They're friends. Just friends. Something like relatives." How else would one explain the brothers of one's lover?

The waiter sighed dramatically. "Honey, let a single guy dream, would you? In my head, they're your boyfriends, and you're actually me. By the way, _love_ your hair."

Maura chuckled; this was why she liked coming to Hector's. Their food was only slightly less fabulous than their wait staff. "Thank you so much. Anyway, when they get here, their names are Rizzoli, and they'll be looking for Maura. I don't know if they'll be coming separately or together. Oh, and later, the check is for me. I'm treating them."

"Okay, my fantasy no longer has me as you," replied the waiter with another wink. "I never pay." He sailed away like a ship on its maiden voyage. Maura decided she was quite in love with him. In the non-romantic way, of course. Soon he was back with two more water glasses, but before she could even say thank you, he had whirled off again, leaving Maura to wonder whether the ballet lessons as a child had been his mother's idea, or his own.

The brusque voice of the youngest Rizzoli intruded her thoughts. "Man, that guy is light on his feet," he remarked, dropping into a chair with much the same casual grace as his sister. "This is a nice dive, Maura," he added, giving her an extremely obvious once over. "Looking good as always."

"Thank you," Maura said, rising to give him a half-hug of the same type Jane usually did with her brothers and partners. Not quite a guy-hug, with the single arm out to the side, but she was a little off center in relation to Tommy, and it was mostly arms and shoulders, not chests. "As are you."

It was true. Tommy, like all the Rizzolis, was an attractive person, and he cleaned up nicely when he wanted to put in the effort. "Come sit down. I noticed that they have all manner of barbecue here. Beef, pork, lamb, chicken. Sauce or dry rub." They also had corn on the cob and other messy finger foods, fried chicken, chicken-fried steaks, regular steaks, and a much wider selection of vegetable dishes than anyone had a right to expect of a rib joint that was basically an upscale version of a neighborhood party on a holiday weekend. "Doesn't it smell lovely?"

Tommy nodded, looking around, and resisting the urge to fix his collar or tuck in his shirt. "Yeah, I was a little worried me and Frankie'd be out of place. But Janie said we'd be fine wearing Sunday dinner stuff." Shifting in his seat, Tommy cleared his throat, "You're not pregnant, are you?"

Maura's surprise might be to blame for her immediate, muttered response. "That would be a trick, wouldn't it?" Then she cleared her throat and raised her voice, smiling. "I mean, no, that's not why I've asked you here. I'd rather not say until you're both here, though, if that's okay. It might be easier. For me."

Thoughtfully, Tommy sipped his water. "Okay," he replied slowly. While his siblings were the police officers, Tommy was no mental slouch. He hadn't grown up with Janie and Frankie and not learned a few tells in people, and since he'd gotten to know Maura, he felt he could read her a little too. "Frankie said he might be a little late, though, so if you got anything you want to tell me first, now's the time."

Maura hesitated. News first, then a personal apology to Tommy later? No, if she was going to do this properly, she had to clear the slate first before writing on it anew. "Since you bring it up, there is something I'd rather not address with Frankie here. I was going to hope for a chance to talk to you later about it, but perhaps this is better. I wanted to say..." What? What _did_ she want to say?

As Maura stalled, clearly stumped, Tommy offered a slice of his father's advice, "Pop says to always start at the beginning. So how about I go first?" He coughed once and then said, "You know I like you. And I know you don't like me the same way." Apology filled her expression as Maura nodded acceptance of Tommy's sentiment. "It's okay." He grinned at Maura. "But if you tell me you're gonna start dating Frankie, I might have to beat him up."

"Frankie?" Maura repeated, surprised. She'd never even considered that option. Truthfully, she hadn't considered Tommy either, except during the brief and few moments in which he'd put himself forward: she was just so focused on Jane. Was that even something she'd have to think about? Frankie didn't feel that way about her, did he? She hoped not. It was hard enough hurting Tommy's feelings, and they hadn't even known one another all that long at the time when he'd attempted to kiss her. Wrong Rizzoli. Either brother was the wrong Rizzoli. "Um. No, but funny you should ask..."

"You're acting kind of scattered," noticed Tommy and he frowned. It was the same frown of concern that Jane got. "Janie said you were friends with Father Brophy. That's gotta be messing you up."

"Yes," Maura accepted the excuse with gratitude, "I am a bit distracted."

Tommy nodded, accepting this at face value. "We can always put this off..." He caught the look of agitation on Maura's face and nodded again. "But you kind of want to get this out of the way? Right. Easiest thing is to just say it outloud, you know. Like 'Hey, Tommy, I'm having the Man-to … Maura talk with you, cause I'm dating your sister.' Right?"

Hazel eyes widened. "What?" Intellectually Maura had known that all the Rizzolis were too clever by half. They understood people, two of them were very good cops, one of them... well, at least Tommy had been smart enough to keep himself out of bodily harm, even while immersed in criminal enterprises. (Even she was not naive enough to think that he'd been a saint before getting drunk and driving into a priest, nor since getting out of prison. He had recognized her biological father on sight, for one thing.) But having that innate perceptiveness directed at herself was uncomfortable, and having him guess what they'd kept hidden from almost everyone for most of two years was positively eerie. "How on earth...?"

"Learned it from my sister," Tommy said with a bit of justifiable pride.

Maura's ears turned pink. "You learned well. I'm impressed." She took a deep breath; embarrassment would not serve anyone, especially with Frankie not even here yet, and still yet to be told. "Is it... Are you... Are you okay with this?"

"Better Janie than Frankie," he admitted. "I mean, I knew you weren't into me when you wanted to wash dishes instead of kiss me." Tommy added a wink into his comment, taking any possible edge out of his words. Both in apology and in an upwelling of filial affection, Maura lay her hand atop Tommy's and gave it a squeeze. He returned it. "I was worried it _was_ Frankie for a while, but I started watching you and him at dinners, and you weren't looking at Frankie all the time." He grinned broadly, pleased to have deduced something and impressed Maura. "You and Janie are real good at keeping it quiet, though, don't get me wrong. I bet… Oh god, Ma." Tommy's skin went a little pale. "Look, I don't know what Janie's told you, but Ma doesn't really go in for, you know, homosexuality? She thinks it's an abomination." He looked apologetic and sympathetic. "I don't, but Ma's real gung-ho for the Church sometimes."

This time, Maura did have a response, but she didn't get a chance to give it. The uniformed Frankie Rizzoli Jr. was escorted in by the fabulous waiter, who indeed gave Maura a broad wink before asking for their drink orders.

Once everyone had greeted one another, perused the menus, and chit-chatted until having their drinks delivered and orders taken, Maura felt her nervousness return. Perhaps she could say that she just wanted to spend time with them. That was true. She quite liked both Rizzoli brothers, and seldom got to be around them when their mother and sister weren't there as well.

But no. Tommy already knew the situation, and it wouldn't be fair to keep it from Frankie any longer. Therefore, when Frankie looked at her expectantly and asked her what was up, she could not stall any longer. Or so she thought. Mouth dry, she reached for her water glass, hoping with part of her mind that Jane was finding her own conversation easier.

* * *

Jane studied the backs of her hands carefully for longer than she wanted to. This should be easy. It shouldn't be a big deal. But it felt like a huge thing. Bigger than it was with her mother. Possibly because she'd taken so long to say this. "Okay, guys. I'm moving. This weekend."

Looking up just in time to catch her partners staring at each other, Jane smiled a little. The three of them were, so often, in sync, it was good the boys were somewhat on the same page. It was easier. "That's it?" asked Vince, obviously not thinking it was.

"No. It's not. It's... I'm moving because I'm moving _in_ with... with someone."

Korsak's eyebrows shot up. "Shit, not Dean!"

"God, Vince, no," groaned Jane, and Barry started to laugh. "No, I'm not dating Dean. Or- Or Casey," she added, holding a finger up to Barry. But here she stalled again. "I should have told you guys before. I've been seeing somebody for a while now."

Shaking his head, Barry applied himself to his steak, "I knew it. I told you, Vince. She's not half as grumpy as she used to be. Pay up."

"You ain't won yet," Vince replied, stubborn, and gestured at Jane with his toast. "So you've got a secret guy, only now you're moving in so you want to tell us. Okay, I can get that. How long?"

Jane's eyes dropped to her plate. She didn't even have the wherewithal to ask what was up with the bet. "Over a year. Year and a half." Both men were staring at her. That was a long time to keep something hidden. "And it's... Um. Crap. It's not a guy. It's Maura."

There was silence from her partners for all of ten seconds. They just kept looking at her. It was weird. That is, until Barry repeated himself. "A'ight, _now_ pay up."

With a sigh, Vince reached for his wallet and pulled out a ten dollar bill. "Shut up."

Barry opened his mouth.

"I said shut up."

Barry just grinned and turned back to Jane, who now was the one with her mouth hanging open. "How long did you say? Year and a half? What month?"

"Uh." Jane debated internally. Was he asking when they first started going out, or when they... Then she realized what was really going on here. "Oh. Forget it. Caroline from Dispatch won the pool. Everybody owes her twenty each. Now that you two know, I'm going to let her collect."

"How do you know she won?" Vince argued.

"Easy," replied Jane as their food came with what she felt was stellar timing. "She told me all about the pool the minute she figured it out, and whose names were in the hat, and who had what date."

"But how did she know?" This time it was Barry, who was already digging into his steak.

Jane couldn't stop the little smirk from tugging the corner of her lips to the side. "We answered each other's phones."

* * *

"I," Maura began, pausing for another sip of water. She could not get her mouth to be anything but dry. "I want to tell you..." She'd meant both of them, but her focus was primarily on Frankie; Tommy's reaction was already secured. She reached for his hand instinctively, hoping for some reassurance.

It was the wrong thing to do. Frankie's glance between them told her that. Quickly, she removed her hand from Tommy's and set it back on the napkin in her lap.

That was enough for Frankie to piece together something. "You and Tommy?" His expression darkened. "Tommy, man, how could you-"

"I didn't." Tommy was definite on the matter. "We had a deal, remember? I don't go back on my word. Not anymore."

Maura's brows lifted. "What kind of deal?"

Frankie's eyes narrowed and his lips pressed together into a thin, tight, line. "Womb to tomb, birth to earth, brothers first." It sounded like one of those childish promises Jane always talked about. "Maura's..." Frankie paused and looked at Maura, "We agreed you were off limits."

"Oh, dear," murmured Maura, and she looked at Tommy, concerned.

"No, don't worry. It's not part of the deal," he assured her. "Frankie, I swear on my life, may I never eat Ma's cooking again, I didn't. It's not me. Me and Maura are just friends, relax."

Looking a little relieved, Frankie did relax. "Like Janie and Maura, okay."

Now Tommy looked concerned, and glanced at Maura. "Uh, not so much."

This time it was Frankie's arm on which Maura laid a sisterly hand. "That's what I wanted to tell you. Not like Jane and me." Meaning suffused her expression. For someone so occasionally awful at using words, she was startlingly good at communicating without them.

Frankie all but leaped backward out of his seat. "Aw, Maura, no!" He yanked his arm away as if stung.

_Well, at least he understands what I'm talking about now_, sighed Maura. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you before, Frankie." She was not going to pin this entirely on Jane, as the situation was far more complicated than just that. "But since we're going to be moving in together, Jane and I thought both of you should know."

The two brothers had opposite reactions. Tommy was openly delighted and hooted, clapping Maura on the shoulder. "That's great! Hey, welcome to the family! Guess this makes you our sister-in-law now." Maura smiled in relief to hear that; it meant that it was very unlikely that his attentions would wander below her neck in the future. She'd be firmly off limits. If only Frankie's reaction had been as accepting.

Later on she would remind him that until and unless she married Jane, she wouldn't really be their sister-in-_law_. But that was a conversation for some time after she and Jane discussed the idea themselves. Later. Right now, she turned towards Frankie to gauge his adjustment to the news.

Frankie's face shut down, closed off and disturbingly unfriendly, completely unlike his normal expression. Frankie was just too quiet, and even Maura could see something was wrong. "Frankie? Frankie, I... What is it that's upset you, exactly? And is there anything I can do to help?"

* * *

"You guys are okay with this?" asked Jane, relieved on so many levels that her partners were comfortable enough with this to have made friendly bets.

"It's like this," Vince began philosophizing, smearing his toast with butter and jelly. "You shouldn't have had to tell us. We should just know these things, because you never should've had to hide it from us. We should've been seeing signs of it all along. The rest of the world should be fine with this, but even if they weren't, you gotta always know we're good with you. We're your partners, Jane. That's more than just protecting each other on the job. I know you know that, I taught you that, but it better start sinking in now. All right? So, yeah. If you want to let this get around, we'll make sure people know they don't have a right to mess with you. If you want to hold onto it for a while longer, we won't say anything. Right, Barry?"

While Vince filled his mouth with more omelette, Barry replied, "Yeah. I mean the way you and Maura keep looking at each other. You've been having eye sex at the precinct for years!" Both Jane and Vince stared at Barry. "What? They totally were! I kept thinking there would be little ocular lady-babies popping out any day now."

Vince snorted, "You're weird, Barry."

"I thought you'd be kind of..." started Jane, and she trailed off. Anna had implied that Barry might be a harder sell on this.

"Yeah, maybe once. But I think I'm getting to be less my old man's son these days." Barry shrugged. "I respect you, Jane. I like you. And if you and Maura are happy, then that's what matters. Right?"

Jane grinned at Barry. "Yeah, yeah that's right." She glanced at Vince, who was also smiling. "Oh, uh, listen, Barry. Anna knows." As the boys complained that Anna had found out before them, Jane carried on, "It was an accident. But if you hear this rumor from the Feebies that I shouted at Dean that I was a big old Gayzzoli, well, _that's_ true."

Both men shut up and stared at each other. Finally Barry muttered "Shit, I thought that was a joke behind your back. I nearly hit that guy."

"Glad you didn't. But thanks for having my back," Jane said, feeling more comfortable, "even though what he said was true."

Barry grinned. "You always have my back when people mention I'm black."

"Holy shit, you're black?" asked Jane with exaggerated surprise, to the general amusement of her partners. "How long has _that_ been going on?"

"Yeah, and you always bite people back," Vince added as he stopped chuckling, "when they say I'm old and fat."

"Hey, you're losing weight." Jane hadn't let it go by without noticing. "When did that start, anyway?"

It was Vince's turn to clear his throat. "'Bout the time your mom started going to yoga with Maura."

"So," Barry brought them back to the topic at hand, "you need help moving tomorrow?"

* * *

Frankie's eyes were locked on the menu. "You know... Maura, thanks for taking us out to tell us. But I'm not hungry. I've got to think about this." He stood up. "I'm not mad, I'm just..." Shaking his head, Frankie turned and walked out.

This was not going well at all. Maura looked at Tommy, who seemed incredibly embarrassed. "I don't know what the hell that was about," he told Maura. "But Frankie's like Pop. When he gets mad, he keeps it all up inside."

"Was he mad?" wondered Maura, looking after Frankie. "He said he wasn't."

Tommy sighed, "He sure wasn't happy, Maura. I'm sorry."

"At least it's out there now. I'll warn Jane so she knows what to expect. I went about it all wrong, didn't I? I shouldn't have... No, I should... I don't know what I could have done." Maura's lips pursed as she thought about the implications of his reaction. "That was actually a lot closer to what I thought your mother's reaction was going to be. Thank goodness for Angela."

This surprised Tommy, "Ma knows already? And she's okay with it? Really? Man, I didn't see that coming." He shook his head. "Look, you didn't do anything wrong, Maura. Whatever's making Frankie pissed off is in his own head. You can tell Janie when you get home... Or are we not gonna eat? Because you were right, the food here smells almost as good as Ma's."

"Speaking of which," Maura noted their waiter's return, this time laden with three plates of food. "Let me just text Jane quickly and give her the short version. Um..." She eyed Frankie's plate. "Could you wrap this up? Our third person needed to leave, but there's no sense in letting it go to waste. Thank you." The waiter swooped up the plate again and was off, graceful as a gazelle. Left with Tommy, Maura smiled weakly. "I wish Frankie hadn't taken it so hard, but I'm glad you're okay. Thank you, Tommy."

Tommy shrugged and picked up the first rib. He bit in with a near orgasmic expression, "Oh my god, that's good." Chowing down, Tommy explained, after his first rib was devoured in record time, "I spent time in prison, Maura. I'm not going to get hung up about my big sister being in love with a hottie." He paused and winced, "Aw, crap, there went _that_ fantasy!"

* * *

**When Will Smith was talking about filming 'Hitch,' he had an amusing anecdote about the time he kissed Kevin Smith in public. Apparently someone was walking by and shouted, "Aw, Will, man! No!" at them. Of the kiss, Kevin James said "I'm not a gay man, but I will say this: I get it now. I know what all the hype is about."**

**Reviews will help Frankie get over it.**


	6. Chapter 6: In Vino Veritas

**Chapter Six - In Vino Veritas**

* * *

That night (or rather, early Sunday morning) found Jane and Maura at Jane's apartment, cleaning out the last of her things. There were three piles for keep, charity, and garbage. The furniture would stay here for Angela, so she wouldn't have to replace all that her husband had lost or sold out from under her. "That's that," Maura said as she put the last of the things into the charity pile, dusting her hands symbolically of the labor. "We're finished except for the actual hauling, and the moving van will be here at one tomorrow. How do you feel?"

"Little bit better," Jane said. She knew Maura had referred to the sensation and emotion related to leaving her home of so many years, but that really wasn't even a part of her thoughts at the moment, so she went with what was actually on her mind. "I mean, it could've gone better with Frankie, but either he'll come around or he won't. I don't know what I'm going to say to Cavanaugh, though."

"Do you have to say anything?" Maura wondered. "Human Resources will need to put a note in your file concerning your new address and whom to call if you get hurt on the job, but technically Cavanaugh has no legal right to your personal information unless it becomes relevant to a case, and I can't imagine that it would."

Jane sat down atop one of the sturdier boxes. It had been her mother's hope chest, and hers, and for the last several years she'd made it a home for her extra pillows. "I don't have to tell him legally, but I owe him." She too dusted her hands, but for less symbolic and more practical reasons. They were filthy. "Cavanaugh went to the wall for me. Twice. After that first time around with Hoyt, Marquette retired. Or, I guess, he was encouraged to retire, and Cavanaugh took over."

She accepted the glass of water that Maura had brought her, and scooted over to make room for a second backside on that chest. "He's the one that pushed me to go for my gold badge when everybody else thought I was too hot-headed. Nobody else stood up for me, but he said he wanted me on his team. Then he let me go after Hoyt again. And again. And that apprentice in between, remember that case? And then he kept me on even after Bobby Marino." Jane sighed and leaned against Maura's arm just a little. "Cavanaugh trusts me. He respects me and he sticks up for me, and I need to show him I trust him, too."

"I see what you mean," Maura replied. "You'll be telling not your boss, but your... friend? Mentor?"

"Somewhere in there," Jane agreed. "Hey, did you say you brought home something from Hector's? I'm starving." She inhaled. "But I'm also disgusting. How about we get a shower and then eat whatever you brought home?"

* * *

Three hours later, Maura startled, distracted from what she was doing. "Did you hear that?"

"Damn it," Jane hissed, "no, I didn't hear anything." That shower had been a pleasant one, followed by more pleasantness. The idea of eating dinner had been all but forgotten. "Don't stop what you're doing. That was really good." Maura renewed her attentions, to Jane's immediate delight.

A few seconds after that, Jane startled. "Aw, crap, that time I heard it. It's the door."

Maura sighed, picking up the nearest shirt and slipping it on. "I'll go see who it is, and you can look for some clothes in case it's your mother."

"Probably Marissa from downstairs, actually," Jane said. "_Somebody_ got a little bit loud for a while there."

Maura chuckled, entirely unabashed. "Maybe if _somebody_ _else_ wasn't so good at that..." She sauntered into the living room and opened the door, already apologizing. "Marissa, I'm sorry about the noise... Um." The woman at the door was decidedly not Jane's downstairs neighbor.

As tall as Jane, with dark hair in desperate need of a trim, the woman was hunched in a leather jacket not quite warm enough for the weather. She too appeared a little surprised at the woman who greeted her at the door, and the words, "Jane, I'm sorry..." died roughly the same time Maura's incorrect noise apology for Marissa tumbled out.

"Can I help you?" asked Maura when she recovered from the initial surprise of the not-Marissa standing there, as the woman gave her an appreciative once over. Maura, dressed only in Jane's shirt, managed not to blush.

"Uh, you're not Jane." Her eyes flickered past Maura to the boxes. "Crap... I'm sorry. She must have moved." She looked contrite and stepped away, as if to leave.

"Oh, no, no, Jane's here. Um. Just a second." The woman and Maura looked at each other with equal levels of awkwardness. Maura couldn't quite place where she'd seen the tall woman before, but she knew that they had met once. Or perhaps only seen each other once. Her voice raised a bit in volume. "Uh, Jane, someone's here to see you."

"What? Now?" called Jane. "Really?"

The exasperated tone caused both Maura and the woman in the doorway to smile. "She's always so touchy," smirked the stranger.

A moment later, Jane came out of the bedroom, in hastily donned sweats. "If Frankie thinks now's a good time to apologize, I'm gonna hit him in the - Kate!"

"Hey," drawled Kate Talucci.

Maura stiffened as she realized exactly who was at the door. Unlike at the hospital, she now had a good, clear, view of the boyfriend stealer. While Maura could read Jane's body language, and Angela's, this stranger was more difficult. There were layers of history in the slightly hunched posture that spoke of uncertainty. Maura's head snapped back to look at Jane, and surprisingly saw the detective grab Kate's arm and haul her in.

Jane hissed as she kicked the door closed, "What the hell are you doing here?" But she didn't sound angry. She sounded concerned _for_ Kate. Like a friend.

"Uh, not to be that way, Rizzoli, but maybe not with your friend here?" Kate's eyebrows lifted at Jane, as if this was a new and pleasant surprise.

"Oh for... Kate, this is Maura Isles. Chief Medical Examiner? Ring a bell?" As Kate's eyes widened, Jane went on, "Maura, this is Kate Talucci. She's been undercover for years. I'm her blind drop."

Both Kate and Maura expressed their displeasure in this information in different ways.

"Jane! Why would you tell me something that I might later have to try to hide?"

"Jesus, Rizzoli, _undercover_! I'm supposed to be Peter Parker, not freaking Spiderman!"

Jane ignored both complaints. "You already probably blew your cover coming here, Kate. And if this is about the Brophy shooting, she needs to hear it." Kate looked at Maura for a long moment and then, with a resigned sigh, took a manila envelope out of her jacket and handed it over.

* * *

Frankie took a healthy swig from his beer. It wasn't his first. It wasn't his second, either. Beyond that, he'd been too irritated to count, and he still was. "Can you believe that?" he said to Darren Crowe, who simply sat listening. He loved to make digs at Rizzoli. If he'd ever wanted ammunition, well, here it was. "Gay as a three dollar bull."

"Bill," said Darren Crowe, Frankie's shadow for the day. Or, rather, Frankie had been his shadow, up until lunch time. Now he was Frankie's babysitter. "Queer as a three dollar bill."

"Yeah," Frankie agreed, thought about it for a minute, and agreed again. "Yeah. Jane and Maura. Behind everybody's back. Behind my back. Tommy's back. Ma's back. Casey's back. She was supposed to date Casey, right? They were always on Skate."

"Skype."

"Right, and then they weren't," Frankie said with an idle, vague wave of his free hand towards... well, Crowe couldn't make out what the gesture was indicating, actually, but Frankie seemed to feel it was important, so Crowe let it go. "But they could've been. They went out in high school, before he went off to be G.I. Casey."

"Joe." Crowe was generally an ass, at least outwardly, but he knew how to be a decent guy at times. Rare times, but this was one of them. They weren't really friends, but if Frankie was going to be a detective, he was going to need people looking out for him. Apparently Crowe had been nominated by the universe for the job.

"Who's Joe?"

"Never mind," Crowe replied. "Go ahead, talk."

Frankie needed no further encouragement. "They've been going around behind everybody's back. Probably laughing at dumb old Frankie. Dumb kid brother with the hots for his sister's best friend. _Best friend,_ they said!" He gave Crowe a significant look and shook his head meaningfully. "I tell you what, best friends don't move in together. Maybe right out of high school, but not when they're thirty or thirty-five or... How old is the Doc? That old, however old that is. Not when they're that old."

"They've moved in?" This was news to Crowe.

"'Bout to." Frankie finished off this beer and, like the others, the bartender cleared it away and replaced it with another. "She didn't even have the balls to tell me herself. I had to hear it from Ma."

Having heard a version of the story himself in the day since the news had broken with Frost and Korsak (he'd heard them in the men's room), Crowe knew differently. "I thought she couldn't tell you because you left the table." Stormed out like a little prick was the way Frost put it; he'd had that news from Jane, who had no doubt spiced up the recollections she'd had from Maura.

Frankie wasn't even listening. He was beer-deaf by now. "Didn't have the balls to tell me herself," he repeated. "And do you know why?" He leaned towards Crowe, gesturing with the forefinger of the hand holding his beer. "Because she's a _girl_. Girls don't have balls. So what the hell is she using to violate my sister, anyway?" Wisely, Crowe elected not to answer with his immediate thought. "What's she got that I don't got? Huh?"

"Wait, you want to know what Doc Isles has, or what your sister has?" Crowe couldn't quite keep it together in his mind, which _she_ was being discussed from moment to moment. It was only fair, though; Frankie couldn't seem to keep it straight, either.

"I don't want to know what either of them got!" Frankie bellowed, then quieted down from anger to sadness. "I just want to know what Jane's got that I don't got. Maura likes guys, you know? She's always dated a bunch of guys. Loves 'em. So does Janie. So why each other? They're screwin' over two other good guys who could be with them. Like me and Tommy."

"You and Tommy?" This time, Crowe couldn't quite resist. "Which one of you gets Jane?"

"No, Maura," Frankie corrected, just barely aware enough. "We both want to get with Maura. But she's busy with Jane, and Jane should be with Casey or Dean or Joe or just somebody besides the Doc. It's not right. And," he concluded as if summing up an argument before a jury or some other kind of rapt audience, and as if he hadn't said it several times before, "they've been running around behin' all our backs, right unner our noses! Little secrets and whispers and _sleepovers_. For a year."

Crow reached for his own drink, an O'Doul's. Frankie hadn't wanted to drink alone. Crowe hated non-alcoholic beer, but one of them had to be safe to drive later. "Only a year?" _Now_ he was surprised. "I thought they'd been dating off and on for the last five years. Pretty much since the Doc got to the precinct."

Frankie shook his head. "Ma says they've been at it for a whole year," he mourned, clutching at his beer again like it held a letter from his one true love. "A year."

Crowe considered his options. There were a lot of questions he could ask, a lot of things he could say. In the end he went with something that wouldn't come back to bite Frankie in the career. "Which part is getting to you? The part about your sister being into Maura, or the part about the Doc being into her?"

Frankie's jaw worked for a moment. "Neither," he grunted, and reached for the beer nuts. "It's the damn sneaking around. I mean, I'm her _brother_ for crying out loud, and ever since Janie got shot, she's been cutting me out more and more." Rolling the beer bottle between his hands, Frankie continued. "I mean... Look, I don't give a rat's ass if Janie wants to be a flannel wearing, carpet munching, Indigo Girls ticket holding, flannel wearing, lesbian hippie in Birkeystocks."

"You said flannel twice."

"She's my sister, and I love her." Frankie felt the need to point it out. "And Maura's probably going to be like my sister too, before it's all done. But I don't know if she loves me like a brother. Like family she can trust. Our own Ma knew first, and Janie knows how Ma felt about the gay thing!"

Crowe nodded. "Well, okay. You're mad about the right thing, I guess. But look, did Jane know all along that she was into Maura, or is this something new? Maybe it's not about her trusting you. Maybe it's about her trusting herself."

Through his drunken haze, Frankie focused on Crowe for a long minute. "Come on, Janie's not scared of nothing."

"Anything," sighed Crowe, wearily. Frankie was well past the stage where a drunk is amusing to his sober friends. Hell, at this point, Frankie wasn't even entertaining the other drunks. "And you know that's not true. Jane's brave, but she's not stupid." Frankie grunted acknowledgement. "Come on, Frankie. If Jane was going to move in with Casey or Dean, you'd want him to come talk to you, tell you he was in love with your sister, right?"

"Yeah," agreed Frankie, warily, as if he was sure he was being suckered into something.

"Yeah, so having Maura come up and tell you, that's the same thing, isn't it?"

Frankie stared at Crowe, almost dumbfounded. "Oh, crap. I should Apollo - Apple - I gotta say sorry!"

As Frankie lurched to his feet, Crowe caught his arm, "Not tonight, big guy. Come on, I got a couch where you can sleep this off."

* * *

The photos were spread out over the kitchen counter, while Kate devoured the leftover ribs as if she hadn't had a decent meal in weeks. "So I was at this bar down in Southie, trying to pick up a lead like I said I would. I was thinking I could get hired, if this was a group thing. I played up the hurt Catholic card and got a lead on a disaffected nutcase."

Both Jane and Maura had taken quick showers (and opened the bedroom window, though that was more for Angela than anyone else), and were now studying covert pictures of a tall man with close cropped, greying hair. "He's like... an evil Father Brophy," remarked Jane.

"They don't look anything alike," protested Maura. "Their facial structures are completely-"

"Yeah, yeah," said both Jane and Kate, and Kate added, "They both have grey hair."

Maura's lips pursed. "That's not enough in common to suggest that they at all physically resemble one another."

The two tall Italians rolled their eyes, and Maura was struck by how similar _they _were. Jane had explained by now that the fight in the hospital had actually been an act. She hadn't expected to run into Kate there, and they'd faked a fight in order to pass information. Normally Kate worked lesbian cases. "You play what you know," Kate told Maura as they jointly related the story of their public estrangement.

Many things became clear. For example, Kate had indeed slept with Jane's boyfriend, but only after Jane had dumped him. When they were in the academy, Kate was pegged as being talented at undercover work, and her seemingly antagonistic relationship with Jane made her a perfect blind drop. Kate worked her way into a drug smuggling ring, a human trafficking ring, a prostitution ring, and so on and so forth, for the last ten years.

Every once in a while, between cases, she'd come home, work as a regular cop, fake a mistake, and get suspended to go back under cover. It had been stressful, she admitted, and difficult to keep a relationship.

While Jane was in the shower, Kate took a good look at Maura. "Listen, me and Rizzoli, we're not... Jane's always been good by me, even when she had a lot of reasons to hate me. When I came out to my Ma, she flipped out and kicked me out. Rizzoli was the only one who stuck by me."

Maura wasn't used to such flagrant explanations of personal history, and shifted, uncomfortably. "You don't have to tell me anything, Detective." She was quite confused about how Kate was secretly undercover, but when Maura had pressed Jane about the information Frankie had supplied, Jane simply said Frankie didn't know what he was talking about.

"Kate. Or Talucci. Jane said it was okay. I mean, you're her best friend. I'm kind of glad to finally get to meet you." The cocky grin on Kate's face was easy-going and welcoming. "It's important to me that you know the whole fighting thing's just a big act. Jane's the only person from growing up I get to talk to. Got to... I'm like _The Spy Who Came In from the Cold._"

This was something that Maura could talk about. "John le Carré?"

"The book was _way_ better. But I liked 'Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy' better. The book. I haven't seen the movie, didn't fit with my persona at the time."

Maura brightened, "Jane wouldn't go see the movie, but Gary Oldman was fascinating. They managed to keep that deep seated paranoia intact, while still making you wonder how the story would end."

By the time Jane came back from her shower, the two were deep into a comparison of Cold War spy novels. "Spy novels? Really?" sighed Jane, leaning against the counter.

"You don't know _all_ of my vices yet, Jane," remarked Maura, but she leaned forward to kiss Jane's nose.

Kate mimed gagging and Jane pushed her arm the same way she used to shove Maura's. Before they were dating.

They were, clearly, friends. Maura had never met one of Jane's female friends who was still a friend, and found the dynamic fascinating. While they went through Kate's pictures and notes, their conversation was interspersed with catching up. Kate was surprised to learn that Angela was not only all right with Jane being gay, but supported it, unlike Kate's mother. That went a long way to explain why Angela had stopped bringing Carla around.

"It was like I told you, Rizzoli. As I'm playing the poor, hurt, Catholic, I make friends with this idiot, who tells me about his friend, sounds like your guy. Dan Gerard, he's totally off the grid, but his buddy was bragging about how he knew a guy with an M40A3 rifle. That's a Marine sniper, civilians don't have that kind of power, and I tell my idiot I don't buy the story, trying to make it seem like guns get me all hot."

Jane snorted, "Well that's not a stretch."

"Shut up." Kate dug into her pocket and put a bullet on the table, sealed in a ziplock bag. It was a .308, just as Dr Knudsen has suggested. "M118LR. Marines brag they can drop a man at a thousand meters with one of these."

Picking up the bag, Maura eyed it carefully. "Did you touch it?"

Kate shook her head, "Nope, said I was scared of something that big." Behind Maura, Jane snorted again and Kate flipped her off. "When he wasn't looking, I swept it into a napkin and put it in my pocket. Figured you could check it for Gerard's prints."

"What do you know about this Gerard guy?"

"Not a lot, but you've got all the fancy computers, right? I know he's divorced, his wife left him, and he lives somewhere in the area, but he's totally off the grid. No one's ever seen him use a credit card. My guy said he was all cash all the time."

Jane frowned, "If he's so smart, how come he slips up with a twerp like your guy?"

"Everyone's got that idiot friend who blabs," Kate shrugged. "He's in with this group of guys, and Gerard's one of them. When I met Gerard, man, the guy totally fits your profile. He's a loner, he's got a thing against the Catholic Church, and he's an ex-Marine."

Both Jane and Maura looked up. "A thing against the Church?"

"Oh yeah, you should see his website."

* * *

**Reviews, please, so something better comes along.**


	7. Chapter 7: Have Nun, Will Travel

**Chapter Seven - Have Nun, Will Travel**

* * *

When Maura had told Jane she wanted to go to the hospital instead of the precinct, Jane had not complained. Sunday, with lack of sleep and a rush of work, had resulted in Jane and Angela moving, but also Kate being stashed in Maura's guest house, and hours of work for the two detectives. It was not the way Maura had planned to enjoy the day with Jane, as the first day alone in _their_ house.

But there would be next weekend.

Come Monday, Kate and Jane had all the information they needed and went downtown to check it all out, while Maura went to the hospital to be present while Daniel was going to be taken off intubation. When she arrived, Sister Polycarp was playing chess with Daniel and drinking a cup of tea.

"Yoohoo," Maura called softly so as not to startle either of the two religious personages. "Happy extubation day. Hello, Polly."

"Did you bring it?" asked the sister with hope in her voice. She'd never been let down yet in her little requests, and now felt able to hope for similarly well-met expectations. Maura did not disappoint, pulling out a little tin of fragrant ointment. "Oh, that's my good girl! My knee will be so happy from this."

"I still feel it won't have appreciable medical effect," Maura felt compelled to mention for the third time, "but at least it will feel better for a little while. Now, remember not to wrap it while the Tiger Balm is on the knee, and to ice it after any heating so that the excess blood will rush away with the veins' constriction, and..."

"All right, all right," said the nun with a wink, "just hand over the loot. You're sweet to an old lady."

Brophy's eyebrows raised dramatically, and both women chuckled. "I am _too_ old," Sister Polycarp corrected what she understood to be the protest. Brophy's objection subsided.

Maura pulled up the free chair and sat down at the far end of the bed, so that both she and Polly could face the door and be out of the way when Dr. Knudsen arrived. "I have some news for you," she told Daniel with a smile. "Some information has come to light, and I believe Jane may be able to make an arrest soon."

Daniel blinked a few times.

Maura's smile faded a touch. "Well... actually, no, the sniper didn't miss entirely. I hope he's at least a little remorseful about the erroneous death of Amanda Montague, which he didn't intend, but in fact, the detectives are now almost certain that you were the target."

Brophy's eyebrows shot up again. Sister Polycarp pressed a hand to her breastbone (her bosom was somewhat lower than that, these days) and started murmuring in Latin, having never quite given up the language in which she had learned to pray in her youth; Vatican II be hanged, she was a traditionalist, and too old to get used to praying in English now.

Apology lanced through Maura's expression. "Yes, I'm disturbed, too. What they don't know is whether you're a specific target, or only targeted because you're a priest, any priest. They're not satisfied on the point of whether the assassin is looking for other victims or waiting for you specifically to become vulnerable."

Before Brophy could blink further questions, in walked Dr. Knudsen, her tall shadow preceding her by a country mile along the hospital linoleum and across the sick bed. When she did arrive, she wore a big, hearty smile. "Howdy, Father. Sister. Doctor." The use of their titles had become a game by now; she'd confounded Maura and amused Father Brophy and Sister Polycarp for several minutes once by repeatedly shaking their hands and offering their titles, especially Maura's, several times in a row. "Are you just about ready to get rid of that thing sticking out of your face?"

Brophy's sense of humor had not suffered during his time in the hospital. He pointed directly at his nose and arched an eyebrow.

"Ha, ha," Knudsen remarked dryly, though with a little wink to show she understood. "All right, then. I'll just... Actually, Dr. Isles, would you care to do the honors?"

Maura appeared interested for just an instant, then shook her head and held her hands up as if pushing away the idea. "I don't actually know if I'm gentle during medical procedures. My patients don't give feedback. I think I should stick to treating the dead, unless emergency situations prevail. But thank you."

"Suit yourself. Okay, Father, just try to relax. This won't feel great, sorry. Don't try to talk immediately." Sister Polycarp got up to ready a glass of water; Maura leaned forward to place a calming hand upon the priest's foot. "All right. Give me a good, healthy cough." Brophy did so, and soon was making a gagging sound; but the tube was out of his throat. "Nice," Knudsen complimented him, and waved with one hand until Sister Polycarp put the glass of water into it. "Here, have a few little sips before you try to speak."

Once he attempted to speak, Father Brophy's voice reminded Maura of Jane's first thing in the morning, all low and scratchy. "How bad?"

"Well, you don't need a new spleen," replied Knudsen, "but there was a lot of damage. You had a collapsed lung, some heart damage which we repaired, perforation of..." there then followed a litany of injuries and dangers that sounded utterly depressing and at least a little frightening, not the least of which was the remaining possibility of infection.

"Shot _here_," Brophy said, confused, and pointed around at all the other places mentioned. "Why all this?"

The good doctor explained the bullet's deflection off various innards, making it sound like most of Brophy's insides were more scrambled than the eggs in an omelette. "Basically, you're lucky."

"But let's be positive," Maura broke in. "You've gotten the best of care, you're physically healthy and strong, and there were no injuries to your brain or spinal column."

"Thank God," added Sister Polycarp, who by now had gone back to English.

Brophy's next question was directly to Maura instead of to the other doctor in the room, and it took her somewhat aback. "Why are you here?"

"Because," she began, surprised, and then stopped. What was the appropriate response, while Dr. Knudsen and Sister Polycarp were right here listening? "Because I was concerned, and wanted you to have another friendly face nearby."

"Thanks," rasped the priest. "Now go to your lab and help catch the guy."

"But..."

"They can't catch him without you. Go on. I have a doctor and a nun."

Unable to argue, Maura got up, gave his hand a squeeze, and left to resume her duty to Boston.

* * *

Steeling herself for the worst, Jane pushed the door open and gestured for Kate to precede her into the precinct. "My desk is over there now," she said with a chin jerk.

"Yeah, by Korsak's. I see he's still got the puppy and kitten thing working."

At the sound of Kate's voice, the room went silent. Crowe's eyebrows shot into his non-existent hairline, while Frost, who had never met Kate before, looked baffled. A few of the other detectives were startled, and Korsak... "Jesus, Janie, first Maura, now Kate? What the hell?"

"It's not what you think, Vince. Come on, we gotta talk to Cavanaugh." When Vince made no move to come with, Jane sighed, "Korsak, really? Come on."

As her partners when into the office, Jane sighed, and Kate shook her head, "Told you this was a bad idea, Rizzoli."

"Stopping a serial killer takes precedence, Talucci," Jane repeated, for the millionth time that day, and closed the door behind them. She'd been able to prep Cavanaugh as much as possible over the phone, and Kate's boss was sitting on the free chair, so Jane was pretty sure they were up to speed on what was going on that far.

"Every time we come in here for some great big thing, you drop a bomb on me, Rizzoli," growled Korsak, in his biggest, most frustrated teddy-bear tone. Crossing his arms, Vince leant against the bookshelf, an action mirrored by Frost.

They hated surprises. "Kate's been undercover. She tumbled into a…" Jane stopped and looked at Kate. "Cell?"

"Close enough."

"Fine, cell of religious extremists. Christians." Korsak's eyes widened as he muttered 'again?' That caused Kate to look surprised and ask 'again?' Jane had to tell them both, "Later. Anyway, most of these guys are your garden variety 'women need to be barefoot and pregnant' misogynists, but this one guy is a little extra crazy."

Frost coughed, "How crazy do you have to be for the extremists to think you're crazy?"

"You have no idea," sighed Kate. "Half the reason I bailed when I did was I was pretty sure they were going to use me as an example for how to put a woman in her place. And those are the guys who think Dan Gerard is extra special. I've got a lot of circumstantial on him, enough to get a warrant. Which I need you guys for."

The two lieutenants went on to cover the needed paperwork, but it took very little time to get Kate back in the fold. As everyone got ready to go fight crime, Jane lingered. "Vince, could you and Barry get her set up on the computer? I need to tell Cavanaugh something."

With the barest of nods, Vince wished Jane good luck and cleared the room, leaving a concerned looking Cavanaugh. "You're scaring me, Rizzoli." he sighed. "I don't want another kitten."

Jane smiled a little, "It's not that. Listen, I uh... I moved. And normally this isn't really your business, but-"

"Jesus, Rizzoli, you moved in with Doc Isles, right?"

Blinking, Jane nodded. "How did you-"

"I'm a damned detective. Give me a little credit," Cavanaugh grunted. "After that stupid FBI invasion, I had to run all of your damn phones to see if you were a leak. You want to know how many times your phone came triangulated up at her place?"

"Not really, no," sighed Jane.

"And Maine. What the hell is in Islesboro, Maine?"

"A cabin." Jane was sure as hell not about to explain the wonders of Maine to her boss.

Now Cavanaugh snorted. "Look, you're right, you don't _have_ to tell me, but I get why you are. Thanks." Cavanaugh stood up and held his hand out for Jane. After a moment she took it and they shook. "Now go catch that sniper before he strikes again. We've already had enough of a mess with that idiot Metzov. We don't need another Catholic nightmare."

Jane's head was still buzzing when she walked into the A/V room, but she eased onto the edge of the desk and asked, "Where are we?"

"The compound," replied Kate, pointing to the photograph of a 'compound.' It looked like a Boy Scout camping area, left alone for twenty years. Or possibly a haunted KOA. "I never got inside, and I'm pretty glad. All the women look like they're about a decade older than they really are. Get married at fifteen, pop out a kid a year until you're worn out. Hell no."

Korsak and Frost both eyed Kate, as if the idea of her giving birth was even more bizarre than that of Jane in a similar situation. And they did eye Jane briefly. "Looks like a Koresh place," remarked Frost.

"Nah, you've never seen the 'free Americans' up in the woods, have you?" asked Korsak. "A bunch of 'em think their militias are an excuse to do this crap. Every year, a couple kids make an escape and are so screwed up, it takes years to get their heads back right. So Gerard left these guys? How the hell did you even find them?"

Kate shifted, looking amused, "Smuggling. They've got some weapons that aren't legal. One of them got busted in town. He picked a fight with some of the singers at Double Feature, and found out the hard way they're more men then he was. They kicked his ass, and he ended up drinking his meals for the next couple months. When the cops checked his stuff out, he had Black Talons."

Korsak whistled long and low. "Been a while since we had those," he remarked.

"I got asked to track it back. While I was there, my informant dropped the noise about a guy shooting a priest. I was checking into that when I ran into Jane at the hospital, so I just added it on. Found that faster than the bullets." She shook her head. "Someone whiter than I am is going to have to go in there. Preferably someone with a penis."

It was amazing how fast Kate was making Frost look uncomfortable. Jane smirked. "Okay, so they kicked him out because...?"

While she already knew the story, Jane felt her partners needed to know. "Get this. They weren't strict enough," grumbled Kate. "I know. I asked around, and he was telling the kids parables. Which you think isn't so bad, right? Except his version of the loaves and fishes was how he went out to the ocean with his high-powered bow and killed a shark." Before anyone could comment, she added, "And then he brought in his hunting bow to show the kids. Freaked everyone out."

"Jesus," muttered Frost.

Jane shook her head, "Gets better. He's married."

The divorcée Korsak stood up straighter. "We gotta save her."

"She's okay," assured Kate. "She skipped on him months ago. I tracked her down yesterday, day after I got that bullet." She reached around Frost, making him fuss, and typed into the browser. "Show 'em."

Frost put the webpage up on the screen and everyone stared. The webpage was a seemingly unending rant about how manly Christians were in short supply these days, and it was mainly the fault of the Catholic church. Matthew 10:34 was plastered across the site like a banner. "Think not that I am come to send peace on earth; I came not to send peace, but a sword," read Korsak, stunned. "Wow, this guy's a piece of work, quoting Jesus to justify killing people."

"Wait, so he's killing Christians for being... weak?" asked Frost.

"Even better," sighed Kate. "Click on 'The List' will you?" When Frost did, a litany of names, and photos, sprang to life. There were priests, ministers, and regular 'deacons' on the list, but also the various monasteries in the Boston area. "Get this. Nuns are failing at being women by not having babies, and monks are failing as men by not siring them. His wife showed me the site."

Jane shuddered. "How many kids does she have?"

"One. A baby girl." Kate reached in front of Frost again and scrolled down to 'Priests.' Ten names were listed, and top of the list was B. Brophy, Daniel. She clicked on his name and a page listing where he lived, his schedule, and proof of his detrimental nature to the church showed up. There was even a picture of Jane and Maura standing with him at the funeral of Brandon Thorne.

It felt like a million years ago, and just yesterday, that she and Maura were fighting about Daniel Brophy and having a secret relationship. Now they had a mostly open one, and were fighting to save his life. They had come so far in their trust with each other in such a short time. Thinking of that, and Korsak's earlier comment, brought a disturbing thought to light. "These guys have any contact with Metzov?"

"He's still not in genpop," assured Korsak. "No phone, no computer, no nothing." Taking pity on Kate, Korsak went on, "Last year we had a priest talking gay kids into suicide-"

"I've met Metzov." Kate's voice was tight and angry. Playing the hurt Catholic wasn't just an act for her, Jane remembered. "I heard he got locked up. And no. Gerard thinks that having priests and nuns not marry is part of the problem. He'd never work with a priest, not even one like that."

Frost cleared his throat. "We'd better get protection on these other priests. If he's going after the Catholics first... This city needs more religious deaths like Korsak needs another donut."

* * *

Once in her lab, Maura became Dr. Isles again. She was focus; she was intelligence; she was observation; she was science personified. Jane had once, in a moment of levity, described her as a superhero, and though Maura didn't believe in super powers, she had to admit that the analogy was appealing, and strangely applicable to both herself and her best friend. Jane had her gun and badge; she, Maura, had her lab coat for a Superman cape, goggles or face shield rather than a Batman gadget belt. Together with Barry and Vince and the rest of the BPD, they fought for truth and justice, and more often than not, they prevailed. Even though the others went out into the world more often and delivered the actual posterior-kicking, while she remained largely the cerebral contributor to their cases.

Maura shook her head. She had to stop going to those superhero movies with Jane. "I'm not a sidekick," she declared softly but firmly as she headed into the trace lab to look over what she'd been leaving to other examiners and technicians.

_Later that same day, in the lab of mad scientist Maura Isles, otherwise known as [cue ominous music] The Medical Examiner..._

"Aha!" Maura exclaimed, then whirled around to reassure herself that no one had heard her outburst. Comic book based movie thoughts were fine, in one's own mind, but they ought to stay there. Still, she couldn't help giggling as she whispered a much quieter, "Aha" and darted for her office to grab her phone. It was all very well to have two different samples telling the story to her on their various microscope slides, but she needed to show them to Jane.

"Jane?" she rushed to say into the phone once her lover's voice answered. "I found something."

* * *

"What have we got?" asked Jane before she'd even fully blown in, hair and blazer still floating to rest around her. Maura took a moment to admire the view before showing Jane into the trace evidence lab and gesturing to the two microscopes.

"What do you see?" she asked, for all the world sounding like one of Jane's old science teachers, though considerably more excited.

"Um...?"

Maura smiled indulgently. "Sorry. I know the level of magnification makes visual identification a little difficult to the uninitiated."

"Try impossible," Jane groused, though good-naturedly. "Seriously, is this a smear of face cream, some pond scum, a paint chip, or did one of your squints sneeze on the slide?"

The smile on the smaller woman's face grew. "You were closest with the pond scum. It's a leaf. Now, look at this one," she pointed at the other microscope. "It's a different leaf." As Jane looked, Maura explained further, "Very different."

Again, Jane could only say, "Um... Yeah, Maur, I know this is a big deal because you're showing it to me like it's my birthday cake, but I don't know what makes it a big deal. Could you play Dr. Exposition for Detective Dummy?"

"You're not unintelligent, Jane, but I do take your underlying point. This," Maura gestured at the first microscope, "is evidence that your man is living, or at least spends a good amount of time, by Jamaica Pond, which is near the arboretum in Jamaica Park. Just south of Brookline."

Jane boggled, eyes wide. "How the hell do you know that?"

Triumph shone from Maura's eyes. "I know it because this," she pointed again to the first microscope, "is a leaf from _Veronica anagallis-aquatica._"

"I know about Veronica Mars."

Maura restrained a fond chuckle. "Blue water-speedwell. It's one of the most common exoctic plants in Boston, imported from Wales."

"Most common exotic? Really?" Sarcasm dripped from Jane's tone.

"They're often imported." Maura began enumerating many reasons for doing so, but Jane wasn't listening, just making lazy circles in the air with one hand, trying to draw out the _relevant_ information just that much faster. "There are also several planted at that particular cemetery. CSU found a great many of these in the sniper's nest at our crime scene. It doesn't help us directly, other than to provide a kind of backdrop for," she moved to the side and gestured at the second microscope, this time with a little more drama to her motion, _"This._ This is _Veronica catenata._"

"Later that same day..."

"_Veronica catenata_ is better known as Sessile water-speedwell. It grows in wet, soggy, swampy areas. Rivers, ponds, but the most important things to know are that it's an endangered species..." Here Maura paused once more for drama, and was gratified to see Jane's eyebrow lift expectantly. "...and that it only grows in two areas in all of Massachusetts. One is in the far southwest, chiefly-"

"_Later_ _that same damned day!_ Jesus!"

"Right." Maura took a quick moment to re-order her thoughts, discarding what Jane would consider extraneous details; they could be put into the final, complete report at a later time. "The other area where they're _trying_ to get it to grow is by Jamaica Pond, which is right near the arboretum in Jamaica Park. Remember? You and I went and helped them plant some on Arbor Day in 2010."

Jane looked abashed, "I wasn't paying attention to the plants."

Maura looked blank. "You weren't?"

Reluctantly, Jane confessed, "You were bending over and digging, and your hands were dirty, and I had a view of your ass..."

This time it was Maura's brows that climbed skyward. "You weren't even aware that you could be interested in me at that point... Were you?"

"Don't think that didn't give me a couple of moments of cognitive dissonance, either." Jane waved her hands, moving right past the part where she'd used 'big words' like Maura, "Which isn't the point. I remember the conservation program. But how do you know those aren't from some crazy old lady's hothouse?"

Maura pointed again at the samples. "I told you-"

"Yeah, I got that. It's exotic, Maura. Lots of rich people take samples and grow stuff and it could be from anywhere... And you're going to totally show me how smart you are by saying you already matched the plant DNA from a sample you have on file, that you took after the planting."

"I may have had it on file," Maura said softly.

"I love that you do that, Maura. But I mean, how many people collect these privately and show them off in hortense-cluttered societies?" One hand waved vaguely, as if spreading out a map studded with pins marking every private garden in the entire state.

"Horticultural... Oh, stop," Maura said with an exasperated smile. "Look, it's very simple. You have a choice between beginning your search with one area of one park, versus looking up every little old rich lady in Boston and asking all of them for permission to invade their greenhouses, solaria, and sitting rooms."

Jane smiled fondly at Maura, resting her hands on her hips. "Okay, I _really_ love that you knew all that and can do all that, baby."

If the situation hadn't been so dire, Maura might have smiled back. "Well I love it when you catch the bad guys." When Jane didn't move, Maura gestured out the door, "Go!"

* * *

**And we love it when you review. The end is near. Review if you want to see Jane and the gang catch the bad guy.**

**Credit to Chemkate for the name "Double Feature" for our drag club.**


	8. Chapter 8: Pond Life

_**Chapter Eight - Pond Life**_

* * *

On the edge of the North side of the park, the SWAT van parked and started unloading. "How can anyone hide out here," wondered Jane, following behind the SWAT van.

"When you get kicked out of your enclave, you find what you can, I guess," suggested Kate. "Lots of homeless people camp out here. It's just as easy to disappear here as it is in the city."

Jane snorted. "There are roads crisscrossing the whole park, jogging trails and bike trails. People are in here all the time. How the hell do you hide?"

"See, this is why you should've stuck with the Girl Scouts, Rizzoli."

"Bite me, Talucci."

"You're the one who wouldn't go to Scouts, I'm just saying."

"It was the same time as Little League!"

Kate laughed as they pulled up in the parking lot, and watched Jane toss her suit jacket into the back. "Little cold for no coat, Rizzoli."

Unfolding from the car, Jane rolled her eyes. "I'm putting on a vest, and so should you, Talucci." From the backseat, Jane pulled her bulletproof vest out and started strapping it on.

"You really think that'll stop a sniper slug? Those things go all the way through people." As soon as Kate said it, her eyes dropped to Jane's torso and she looked apologetic. "Shit, I'm sorry." Scrambling out of the car, Kate tossed her jacket in back and went to get a vest from the van.

"Why're we bringing her?" grunted Korsak, adjusting his own vest. "Damn it, this thing doesn't fit anymore."

"She earned it, Vince," sighed Jane and turned to look at her partner. "We're gonna have to get you a smaller one." Flipping her phone out, Jane sent a quick text to Maura, telling her they were at the park, and then turned the phone off and left it in the car with the rest of her non-essential gear. The last thing she needed was her phone to start blasting 'I'm Sexy And I Know It' while stalking a crazed sociopath.

Frost, his own vest on and snugged, adjusted his gun belt. "My mouth always gets bone dry when we do this," he admitted.

"Better'n losing your lunch over the body," Korsak noted, with a final tug on his vest.

When Kate returned, wearing a borrowed vest, she was frowning. "Rizzoli, I don't mean to be a downer, but how sure are we that Gerard is here. I mean, a flower? Really? How much do you trust Doc Isles?"

"With my life," Jane said, without a second thought, ignoring the quick inhalations by Frost and Korsak.

"Yeah? Is that Jane or Detective Rizzoli talking?"

Jane tied her hair back in a ponytail. "Detective Rizzoli. Dr. Maura Isles doesn't guess. She doesn't give an opinion until it's backed up with fact. She thinks guessing is for intellectual wimps. Maura may be my girlfriend, Talucci, but Dr. Isles is never wrong." Jane tossed her head, feeling her ponytail bounce off the back of her vest as she went to ask SWAT exactly how much damage a sniper's slug would do through a vest. Maybe she'd be really lucky and Daniel would pray Gerard wasn't ready and waiting for them.

* * *

"Didn't I send you back to work?" rasped Daniel, between breaths taken from his oxygen mask.

Maura frowned and put the mask more firmly on his face. "Your lung-" Daniel swatted at her hands, weakly. "Daniel, you need to breathe."

The priest was not dissuaded and pulled the mask off. "Seventy percent. I'm fine. Why are _you_ here?"

At one point in the not so distant past, Maura would have felt comfortable unburdening herself to Daniel. Just half a year ago, she'd sobbed in his arms about dead boys. Only a few months ago, when Jane had been with the FBI, she'd wanted to cry in his arms again. But today, she had no impulse to fall against Daniel. He was no more a confidant, only a good friend.

She studied the man quietly, wondering when, exactly, this had happened. She didn't want to sit and fret with him, she wanted to be out at the pond, waiting in the nicely protected SWAT van. _I've outgrown Daniel,_ realized Maura, to some surprise.

He was still intellectually stimulating in discussion, when able to speak properly. She still loved him, and knew he felt the same. But something was missing. Maura no longer felt the urge to unburden her mind and heart to him. She no longer felt anything but filial warmth when she touched him, whether to shake his hand when meeting up with him at work, or to lay one of her hands on his foot or forearm while he received treatments here at the hospital.

There was no heat in her when she thought of Daniel or interacted with him. There was no need to suppress anything, nothing _to_ suppress, for the sake of her current relationship. Maura was taken aback by the realization, enough to mistrust it and analyze it. Deliberately she ran her mind over her memories of their past relationship, over the physical contact they had shared. Considered what she could recall, with vivid clarity, of his body. _Huh._ Nothing but a pleasant remembrance, without desire to repeat, revisit, or savor.

The words to one of Jane's secretly-favorite songs ran through her mind, from the mix they often played in the car: _And if it ever was there and it left, does it mean it was never true?_ Had she really loved Daniel at all? Yes. Yes, she had. She knew not because of the intensity of their relationship while it lasted, but because of the hole it had left in her when it was over. The hole she could see if she looked, but no longer feel.

Maybe what she'd outgrown wasn't Daniel, but the pain of not having him.

Maura wanted, briefly, to discuss these thoughts with him, but stopped herself. If he had not reached a similar state, it would only cause Daniel distress.

Instead she said, "I talked to Dr. Knudsen again this afternoon. She said you're going to start therapy next week. You won't do very much to start with, given the nature of the injury but-"

"Avoiding." He wasn't really up for longer sentences. Maura sighed and looked at her phone. The last text from Jane was half an hour ago. "It's going down?" Maura looked up, confused. "Jane?" He mimed a gun.

"Yes." Called out, Maura now felt guilty. "They think they found the shooter's nest."

"Lair." He was quickly recovering his ability to talk, though he still sounded like Jane on a very bad day.

"Thank you. They're raiding it."

Daniel muttered 'Good' as he pulled his mask back up. His eyes closed and Maura watched Daniel breathe for almost 90 seconds. Then she looked at her phone again. It was only 32 minutes. Assuming Jane texted roughly fifteen minutes before they started the raid, it would be at least double that before she got another message. While Maura wished she was there, she knew Jane might be distracted by her presence. So here she was, safe in the hospital, with two policemen guarding the door.

She wanted to be somewhere else. _I should have stayed back in my lab. Then I could have left the radio on and heard what was going on. Not that Jane ever remembers to turn hers on, which is stupid and dangerous. I'll have to nag her._

* * *

For someone who never was a scout of any kind, Jane knew she was damn quiet as they walked through the trails. Part of that was because she knew right where she was going, and stuck to the clear paths. The other part was she was so damned scared about that sniper ripping through her, that she was taking every step as slowly and carefully as possible. Kate, Korsak and Frost followed her, along with a SWAT team, who were crazy quiet.

As they neared the part of the park Jane remembered, she stopped. "This is the area we were planting in." Jerking her chin in that direction, she gestured to split up the team. "Kate, take Frost and go north. You know what Gerard looks like. Korsak and I will go around south." The SWAT team spread around and they began stalking. The earwigs, directed from the SWAT van, continued to let them know where everyone else was as they crept through the underbrush.

It was a testament to Vince's health that, unlike three years ago when chasing Hoyt, he wasn't even breathing hard. A soft click echoed in Jane's left ear and she froze. "Frost and Talluci spotted a bucket. Rizzoli and Korsak, it's going to come up on your right. They're going wide to edge around."

"Copy," breathed Jane. She ignored the sweat trickling down her neck and back. They'd been walking for nearly forty-five minutes to get here. Her eyes flicked to the side and she saw what she was looking for. "This is Rizzoli, I've got the plants."

"We copy, converging teams on your location."

Jane swallowed and nodded at Korsak. They had worked together for so many years, she didn't have to tell him what she wanted. He just fell into place, a step behind her, but not in her blind spot. The scariest part was they had no idea if their guy was here. Frost had spent hours tracking down the website, which was using WHOIS guard (whatever that meant, Frost just said it hid the name of the person who owned the domain name behind layers of something or another), and the warrant for the domain name came up with Gerard's wife's address. All the bills were paid through an online money transfer service, and the warrant on where _that_ was funded from was still being argued. The service's lawyers were dragging it out, regardless of the word 'murder.'

At best, he was using an offshore bank account. The ex-wife had, willingly, given up their bank records, and there was a listed transfer to an online-only bank, followed by that account being closed a year later. The last payout went to another online bank. The process was repeated seven times in the last three years, before Frost declared it was money laundering, and handed it over to the forensic accountants. Jane suspected Anna's assistance.

Somehow the man managed to live off the grid. When they subpoenaed the web host, all the IP addresses used to update the site were from libraries, web cafes, and coffee shops. Arguably that meant he had a computer to use. Kate had seen him with a cellphone, but the number she scoped was a burner that came back with the name 'Mitt Romney.' And they were all pretty sure Mittens had nothing to do with this case.

"We've got a tent." That was Kate, her voice a hushed whisper in Jane's ear. "Unzipped. He's probably in the area."

"Stay on your toes," the SWAT coordinator suggested. Had Jane not been concentrating on being silent, she might have made a snappy remark (or just drawled out a lengthy 'really?').

Behind her, a cracking sound came, nearly lost in the soft whooshing of plants in the wind. Jane glanced at Korsak, who shook his head, eyes wide. They both whirled, but a tall, grey-haired man was ready. He lashed out with the gun in his hand, neatly clipping Korsak in the head and sending the big guy down. Korsak had gone down like a father during birth, with an echoing thud of a hundred elephants. The man was fit these days, but still pretty solid.

"I didn't think you'd find me," he said brusquely. His gun was just a standard Glock, but it was aimed at Jane's head. And she already knew he was a good shot.

"We're good at what we do," Jane replied evenly. She trained her own gun on his body. It shouldn't kill him.

A brief burst of voices from her earwig told her the others had heard both Korsak's crash and Jane's conversation with Gerard. _Thank God, _thought Jane. _Ma's gonna shout at me me if Korsak's hurt,_ realized Jane, her eyes and gun never wavering.

"You aren't good enough. I heard you coming a mile away." He was preternaturally calm, as if a standoff in the woods was a common occurrence. "You think you're all smart, with your technology. How about living without it." Raising one hand, Dan Gerard thumbed a small device.

_Don't be a bomb, don't be a bomb! _Jane thought to herself. _A vest isn't going to help me if it's a bomb! Oh, please, God, I just moved in with Maura! Don't be a bomb!_

It wasn't a bomb, though for a split second, Jane really thought it was. A sharp squeal came from her earpiece. Jane cringed inwardly in pain from the sound, but did not wince. Years of practice helped her bite down on the urge to scream. _I didn't let Hoyt hear me scream, and I'm sure as hell not letting you,_ she thought grimly, keeping her eyes on Gerard. "Is that all? An EMP to knock out local communication? Yeah, our mole already warned us about that."

Gerard was startled, and dropped his trigger to grasp his gun with both hands. "Mole? There's no mole. I work alone."

"Well that explains your shitty website." Jane was playing for time. The others knew where she was, mostly, and she could only hope they'd still be able to find her. _Mano-a-mano_ with a trained sniper was not Jane's idea of a fair fight. "You've got problems."

"If this is the finest Boston PD has to offer, I think I'm fine."

"Really? So how come I know that you like to build small range EMPs out of Pringles cans? Same trick they used in Egypt to make Internet repeaters, right? You learned that in Iraq." And Jane learned it from Maura, who had spent hours reading the news to Jane, and explaining what they were doing to circumvent unjust laws.

"You did your homework. I'm impressed." His voice was deadpan. "You can't win, you know. You try to shoot me, I'll shoot you. Best you can hope for is we both die."

_Just play for time, Rizzoli,_ she told herself. "Nobody's dying today," she remarked, trying to sound braver than she was.

* * *

"Good news," said Dr. Knudsen's hearty voice as she entered the room, grinning a secondary greeting as she spotted Maura in the visitor's chair. "Hey, Doc."

"Hello, Doctor." Maura stood, partly in greeting and partly to get her blood flowing. She'd sat still for too long, wondering what to say next. "What news?"

Knudsen held up a folder and waved it a little. "I got back some of your test results and the films from your last X-ray, Father. You're making some impressive progress. Blood tests indicate no infections, and the internal wounds seem to be healing at a really gratifying rate. Your vitals have been consistently strengthening. I'm going to go ahead and claim that it's all because of the fantastic skill of the surgeon," she added with a dramatic and ironic bow. Maura couldn't help but smile; she had come to like Dr. Knudsen, not merely to respect her professionally.

Daniel looked modestly smug. It was quite a trick, combining those two qualities. "The power of prayer," he intoned piously. Maura elected not to mention her thoughts on the quantifiable medical effect, real versus imaginary, of warm, fuzzy, hopeful thoughts.

Knudsen went on, "Keep on like this, and we'll be letting you go out into the hospital grounds for some sunshine in the next day or two. If you can sweet-talk someone into wheeling you around, of course. Or maybe I'll just order one of the candy stripers; they love that crap."

"Isn't that a bit quick?" Maura wondered, excited, but only in a cautious way. "The average healing time for wounds of this nature and extent-"

Knudsen waved a hand as if wanting the scent of naysaying to dissipate. "Pish-tosh. The man's got to get some fresh air in him if he wants to keep getting better. Sunshine and a change of scenery will do your priest, here, a world of good. Not as much as laughing, but we don't want him to tear anything, so no dirty jokes, okay?" She did a good job looking almost perfectly serious, other than the little wink off in Daniel's direction.

Maura's eyes widened for a moment before she realized that there was teasing involved, and that it was meant for Father Brophy and not for herself. "I wouldn't - Oh. A joke, of course. I see. Well, thank you very much, Doctor." She didn't really know why she said it. Thanking Knudsen suggested some proprietary feeling that she no longer felt. It was an oddly ungrounding sensation, the absence of ownership of Daniel. He was entirely his god's now, not hers.

Dr. Knudsen attached a page or two from her file to Daniel's chart and left, leaving Maura alone with Daniel once more. She turned back, opened her mouth to speak to him, and realized she hadn't a single idea of what to say.

He solved the problem for her. "Maura, when I was... I suppose either unconscious or semiconscious, did you happen to say something about moving?"

Relief. Maura did not let it show, but nevertheless, it cooled her mind. "Yes, I did. Jane and I are going to be living together."

Daniel frowned, coughed once, and then asked, "You're selling that beautiful house?" He sounded disappointed. "The kitchen looked just like your old house."

Surprise briefly appeared on Maura's face, followed swiftly by understanding. She corrected him, explaining the ambiguity of Jane's hire date, which had been decided on the side of leniency.

"What about Angela?" asked Daniel next, one grey-white eyebrow arching to indicate either knowledge, or at least a very good guess, about a particular source of discomfort for both mother and daughter of the Rizzoli tribe.

Maura actually blushed at the thought that Daniel was asking, however indirectly, about her sex life. It surprised them both. After all, he had once been a part of it. The blush, a purely involuntary response, told them both more than anything else could have done: that that part of her was unavailable to him anymore, just as he was unavailable to her. They had both found other feminine entities to whom to give their allegiances and love. Jane for her; the Holy Mother for him. "Ah. Yes, she's going to be taking over the lease on Jane's prior residence. It seemed to be the most practical solution."

Daniel hid behind his oxygen mask for a moment, as if he immediately needed help, even though the last hour he'd barely coughed. "Practical," he replied, his voice rasping out like Jane's, that night she and Maura had gotten quite wonderfully and exceptionally drunk. The next morning, Maura had sounded like Jane, and Jane had sounded like a rusty truck driving on a gravel road. "I'm happy for you, Maura," said the priest at last, without a trace of sadness for her or himself. The honest smile on his face was a friend happy for his friend, and nothing more.

* * *

"You're stalling," Gerard noted.

"So you say," Jane replied. "Why did you do it?"

"Sorry, I save my exposition monologues for after the so-called hero gets killed." Gerard smiled, a thin and vile smile, and started to put pressure on the trigger. He really was a sniper, putting imperceptibly increasing pressure, so there would be no jerking motion of recoil when he finally pulled the trigger.

If he hadn't been trying to kill her, Jane might have been impressed. "It was the plants, you know," she blurted. He froze. _That's right, what did Casey tell me about sniper training? You freeze, you don't jerk. You have to be calm and steady. So if I distract him, he won't shoot me. I hope. This might be the dumbest idea I've ever had._ "Those weeds by the water. Did you know we can run DNA from a plant?"

"What?"

Yes! She had his attention. "Oh yeah, we didn't find _your_ DNA. You were smart enough to avoid leaving any. Props for that, I'll give you. But we found this plant that didn't match the others. A weed, really. And our lab was able to match that plant's DNA to plants that the conservatory folks have been trying to grow here." Her inner Maura said 'cultivate.' Jane told her inner Maura to shut up.

Gerard looked truly confused, as if this concept never occurred to him. "You're good," he finally said. "Too bad you're corrupted. Your sons would have been heroes."

"Yeah? I'll settle for some shero action today," grinned Jane, ignoring the inner-Maura wail of 'heroine' and the longer explanation about how 'hero' was actually the male form of Hera's followers, and they were called the dogs of Hera, making 'bitch' a compliment. All of that zipped through Jane's head in a split second, and stopped before she had to quell the inner Maura. Again. "Besides. You're going to look really stupid in a second."

"Oh, yeah?" Gerard scoffed. "Why's that?"

Jane smirked. All those weekends introducing Maura to chick movies like _The Princess Bride_ were paying off in spades. "Because I know something you don't know."

The faint crushing of a twig behind him caused Gerard shock, but the voice caused more. "You know, you actually are a lefty, Rizzoli," said Kate Talucci from about three yards away. "Drop the gun, Gerard and put your hands behind your head."

"Later that same day, Talucci! Took you long enough." Jane didn't take her gun off of Gerard, not even when Frost and the rest of the SWAT team caught up with them, seconds later. Knowing he was caught, Gerard slowly stooped to drop the gun, kick it towards Jane, and put his hands tamely behind his head.

"I like drama," Kate quipped. "Cuff him."

Jane didn't hesitate, "It's your collar, Kate. You did the hard work." Their eyes met for a moment, and Kate grinned. She yanked Gerard's arm down and roughly cuffed him. For once, Jane wasn't going to make bones about it. "Frost, how's Korsak?"

The younger cop knelt by their partner and checked his pulse. "I think he's snoring," Barry said, in a stunned tone, almost laughing with relief.

"I should've hit him harder," snarled Gerard as Kate shoved him into the waiting arms of the SWAT team. Only then was he able to see who it was that had cuffed him. "You! You're that bitch from the bar!"

"Look at that, Talucci, he knows your name," joked Jane, holstering her gun.

With remarkable decorum, Kate rolled her eyes. "No mole, he said. I wasn't hanging around that stupid bar for the quality of the beer or _his_ lousy company, that's for sure."

Gerard shook his head. "I knew you were too manly to be one of us. You're probably one of those carpet munching lesbians."

_Uh oh,_ thought Jane, and she flicked her eyes at Barry. Kate's back was ramrod straight, and Jane was reminded of what had happened to Carla Talucci's favorite lamp, the day Joe Grant called Kate a dyke. Apparently Joe liked to say he got the scar in a bar fight.

But Kate didn't even bother to look like she _wanted_ to refute the accusation, merely grinning smugly as she told him, "You lost. We've got you, and your little friends are next. Your whole asinine operation, if you can call a one man campaign of stupid that, is over." Kate shook her head and turned away.

"Bitch," growled Gerard, and he spat on Kate. His aim with saliva rivalled his aim with a rifle: he got her square in the face.

Now Kate's cool was lost. Jane and Barry moved as one, each grabbing one of Kate's arms, mid-swing, and forcibly hauling her away while SWAT put Gerard face down on the ground. The shouting and commotion had one good effect, though.

"What the hell happened?" asked Korsak, slowly sitting up.

At least Jane was sure her mother wouldn't yell too much at her about Korsak.

* * *

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	9. Chapter 9: Happily Ever After

_**Chapter Nine - Happily Ever After**_

* * *

_Later that same month..._

While Jane wondered if a wedding to Maura would be like this, she was wise enough not to voice such an idea when Maura, Angela, and Constance all took over the planning for their 'simple housewarming party.' Jane had no idea what definition of 'simple' they were using, and took the ready excuse of follow-up from the Gerard case as a reason why she was too busy.

Actually, she did have a lot of work to do after the case was closed. First there was officially, publicly, reinstating Kate Talucci, and explaining to their cop-family what had been going on. Then there was an award ceremony for Kate, where Jane had to wear her dress uniform (Maura wore a slinky dress), where Kate was decorated for bravery, as well as some pretty kick-ass accomplishments. When Carla Talucci refused to come to the ceremony, Jane threatened Kate's brothers and cousins with parking tickets so at least Kate had some family there. Still, everyone knew Kate was upset that her own mother didn't come.

Since Jane remembered, clearly, what it was like when her own father ditched the family, she made an effort to try and get Carla to see the light. The amusing conclusion to that was when, after Jane told Carla that she was dating a woman, and Carla called Jane names, that Angela stepped in and screamed that no one, not even her best friend, was going to insult her baby girl. The shouting match was now a legend in Revere, and every single one of Jane's childhood friends knew she'd moved in to Maura's house.

Which was, sadly, part of why the party blew up out of proportion. Most of Jane's friends were supportive (Giovanni in particular), and wanted to come meet the woman who won Jane's heart. Even her ex-boyfriends seemed, at the very least, resigned to this new world order. Casey and Joe sent congratulatory cards. Dean did not attend, fortunately, but sent flowers to Maura, thanking her for saving his life; and a Babe Ruth autographed baseball, from his Red Sox days, to Jane. The baseball, Jane explained to Maura, was worth at least $6000 dollars. They agreed that was a fair apology for the trouble Dean caused.

Maura had not felt the need to inform any of her own exes of the happenings in her life. A murderer, she felt, did not deserve the honor of keeping up on her doings. Ian, now married and already a father twice over, was a stone best left unturned. If those two had not been informed, why notify anyone else? The rest, she decided, could learn about her life when and if they chose to contact her and ask what was new.

The closer they got to the housewarming party, the more Jane ran out of excuses to not help plan. That was when Maura's (adoptive) father showed up, and taught Jane how best to avoid the Isles women when they were in a planning mood. It involved long walks (for Joe), errands, and simply vanishing for hours. Fishing was mentioned, and promises made to do so (on his boat, perhaps, next summer, and had she ever thought of visiting Greece?). They were never once missed.

From Frank Rizzoli Sr, there was a card saying 'As long as you're happy, Janie.' Jane did not reply.

A package arrived a few days before the party, _sans_ return address, but postmarked through Quantico. It contained nothing but a cellphone and a typewritten note which read, _Whatever you both need, let me get it._ There was no signature present, but then, none was needed.

* * *

After putting up with in-laws in their guest cottage for a week and a half, Jane was relieved the party was finally happening. The night before, Maura had a minor panic attack of the 'what if's, and after Jane calmed her down, she found herself receiving approving smiles from the Isleses. The morning of the party, Angela whirled in like a Tasmanian Devil, cleaning the kitchen and vacuuming, chasing Jane out from underfoot, and unintentionally but effectively terrorizing poor Joe and Bass.

"I love you, but you're making me a little bit crazy," Maura finally told Angela as she took away the scrubber so that the Rizzoli matriarch would stop cleaning the surfaces that Maura had already cleaned the night before. "It's been done already, and anyway, you are not a hired cleaner, nor an indentured servant. You're the woman who gave life to the woman I love. You're a tough and smart person with a big heart, pretty hair, decent penmanship, an eye for color and form, a working knowledge of Italian, a really nice boyfriend, a fierce affection for your children, and you're a savvy shopper. You're bright, charming, witty, caring, and interesting, so stop acting like cleaning and cooking is all people will ever appreciate about you."

She put the scrubber away with finality. "Now. The party isn't until tonight, and it's barely ten o'clock now. We have some time, and God only knows where Jane and my father have gone. Why don't you and I and Mother go get mani-pedis?"

"But-!" Angela looked like a child whose lolly had been taken right out of its mouth, for about three seconds. Then she paused. "Mani-pedis? In a real salon?"

Maura nodded. "Mine almost always has either mineral water or fresh ginger-ale from the microbrewery down the street."

Angela grabbed her purse.

* * *

"You are not wearing that," remarked three women at once. Angela, Constance, and Maura all looked at Jane with varying expressions of abject horror, though at least Maura simply looked doubtful.

"No, I'm not," Jane sighed, glancing at her sweatpants and ratty t-shirt. "I'm going for a run while you guys go worship at the Temple of Girliness. Then I'm going to shower, put on the clothes Maura picked out, pick up my brothers, and be here for when the caterers show up. God, you're all acting like I'm new at this."

As she exposited, Maura's father showed up, similarly attired, and received the same critique. "No, I'm not. I'm going running with Jane."

When the women left, Jane asked, "Are they _always_ like that? I mean, I know my Ma is, but..."

"Just be thankful Maura took them out," came the world weary reply. "By the way, did Maura mention she and I used to run marathons together?"

By the time they got home, Jane was regretting the choice of runs. Who knew an old man could run that fast? Either he was faster than Maura, or she slowed down for Jane, and Jane was pretty sure it was the latter.

* * *

Drinks both alcoholic and soft were flowing. Hors d'oeuvres were being praised, a joint effort of Angela, Constance, and a discreet caterer. Neighbors to whom Maura had waved for three years were finally coming by to actually make her acquaintance, now that she'd proven she wasn't stand-offish by inviting them herself; Rizzoli cousins, aunts, and uncles mingled happily with Maura's parents and the few family friends who turned up their noses neither at her career nor at the idea of meeting Jane.

Father Brophy was the cherry on the sundae, wheeled up the front walk and inside by a nurse, hired to help him out for a while (Sister Polycarp, whose knee was bothering her, had declined the invitation, but sent Jane and Maura a bag of lemon drops via Brophy). Angela was particularly delighted by his presence. "Father! Did you come to bless the house?"

"I could," he replied gamely, "but I really just came for the beer your daughter promised me. Beer is always better with good friends, isn't it?" The priest rolled blithely past La Rizzoli, whose dropped jaw had never stopped being fun for him, from the moment she realized that her Maura-loving daughter was buddies with a man of the cloth.

"Uh... yeah," Angela replied to his retreating back and that of the sassy-looking young nurse as they began to mingle. Fortunately, few others were intimidated by their presence, other than Tommy; Angela mentally reasoned that he could use a little intimidation, given some of his past behavior at parties, so she let that one go.

* * *

"Kate," Maura beckoned to her, and also to Jane, who was showing off her very own office in the back of the house. "Jane, he's here. Didn't you want to introduce them?"

Jane brightened up immediately, setting down the Babe Ruth baseball. "Yeah! Come on, Kate. You have to meet this guy."

Kate looked suspicious. "I'm not dating guys anymore, I've told you."

"Relax, it's not that." Jane was immediately casual about it, though she sent Maura a wink to send her back in to flag down the man in question. "This guy is definitely not looking for a girlfriend. He's just a cool person, a friend of mine and Maura's. We think you'll hit it off, and besides, you're worth sixty points, and I owe him that much."

"Sixty _what_?"

* * *

Vince showed up with two sets of flowers, one for Maura and the other for Angela, who blushed. Jane's brothers were bringing in more drinks, and missed the cheek kiss between the two, and Vince quickly went to get himself a drink.

"Are you going to tell them," asked Maura handing Angela a fresh drink. She indicated the boys with a subtle chin jerk.

"No, I don't think so," smiled Angela. "Janie and I think it'll be more fun to surprise them."

Maura didn't agree, based on what had happened with Frankie at their ill fated luncheon. He was still avoiding Maura just a bit. "If you think that's wise," sighed Maura.

The conversation went no further when Crowe came up to express his best wishes. "I lost the pool, but I can't say I'm mad about you. You and Rizzoli are a pretty good match." And he handed over a postcard.

Confused, Maura replied, "Thank you," while reading. Crowe had donated money in their name to the Right to Marry organization. A lot of money, at least for someone living on a cop's salary. "Oh, Darren," she said, pressing a hand to her heart. "That is so sweet of you. It's a lot, though. Are you sure?"

"I've got an older brother who's living in Kentucky," Crowe explained. "He can't marry his boyfriend, and they've been together for almost twenty years now. You two can marry here if you want, but it won't matter in most other states until some things change. So the donation's in your names, but it's for him just as much."

"I am touched," Maura said with all too visible sincerity. "Thank you, Darren."

* * *

"A pleasure to meet you, Miss Talucci," said Daniel Brophy as he offered a hearty handshake from his chair, letting Jane fade into the background.

Kate shook the hand, but clearly didn't understand why she was doing it. "Yeah, uh... Jane said I should meet you, but to be honest with you, Father I don't know why. I don't do religion anymore. Not to be a jerk about it, but the Church doesn't want me."

Brophy smiled. "Oh, but it does. Have you ever heard of Dignity Boston?"

"You mean the ghetto where the Church's black sheep get to hang out, safely away from everybody else?" Bitterness was undisguised in Kate's voice. "Yeah, I've heard of it."

"I work with Dignity," said Brophy, "but I'm also working within the mainstream Church to try and reshape Catholic awareness and understanding. There's no reason anyone should feel they can't be a part of the Church if they want to be."

Kate cleared her throat. This was a party for Jane and Maura, and she had no wish to cause a scene. She also didn't want to be silent about the subject that would probably never stop causing her pain, when it had been brought up by someone else. "Except the fact that the Church thinks I'm going to hell, for something I can't help and damned sure wouldn't have chosen if I had a choice at all. And forget it, I'm not going to live my life alone and celibate. Props to the folks who can, like you and your novice over there," she nodded to the woman winning at Go Fish, "but that's just not reasonable to ask of every person who doesn't fit the standard mold."

Brophy nodded. "No argument. But you'll have to remember, those laws were enacted within the Church at a time when little was truly known about the nature of sexuality. It was at the time considered to be something that a person did, and could therefore choose to redirect or misdirect at will. We know more now. We're aware that it's not what you do, but who you are. It's a lengthy process, but eventually Church law and doctrine will catch up with our growing understanding of human sexuality's many forms. Probably when we get a Pope who's not... Well." He broke off before committing a breach in priestly propriety, but the idea was out there even though the words had not been spoken - which, Kate quickly intuited, had been his he changed tactics. "Besides. A lesbian, a fornicator, and someone who's had to break minor civil laws within her undercover duties? That's thirty-five points, plus twenty, plus five more. I'd totally win at Sinner Bingo that week if you showed up at just one service. Come on."

He smiled again, letting his natural, winning charm shine through, as he delivered the _coup de grâce_ that had brought many an estranged soul back for another look at Catholicism. "We've got coffee cake."

* * *

Making her escape from the heavy Catholic conversation taking place between Kate and Daniel, Jane arrived at Tommy's side as he popped open a can of soda. "Thanks for coming, Tommy."

"Hey, it's no problem, but I have to tell you. You're not my favorite sister anymore. She is." He pointed, with his can, towards Maura, who was hugging Darren Crowe, of all people.

Jane would have to ask what was up with that later. "I'd argue, but she'd be mine too." Clearing her throat, Jane added, "Maura told me about the restaurant. I'm... Thanks for being cool about it." Unlike their brother went unsaid.

Tommy blew it off. "Please, you being gay, or straight, or bi, or just with Maura doesn't matter. You're my sister. I love you. If you're happy, that's what matters, right?"

"When did you get smart?"

"Prison. Gives a man a lot of thinking time."

That was the first time Tommy had actually mentioned being in prison to Jane and she studied her little brother's face. "I wouldn't call you a _man_ yet," she teased, and Tommy shoved her in the shoulder.

"Listen, can I be serious for a minute?" he asked, rolling the can between his hands.

"Sure, Tommy. You can tell me anything."

Tommy looked at the drink table, then over at their mother, and finally pulled a chain out from under his shirt. "Two years. No slips, no spills, no screw-ups." From the chain dangled a two-year sobriety chip from AA. "I gave Ma my one year chip."

There was only one right reply, and Jane gave her baby brother a hug. "I'm proud of you, Tom."

"What's with all the hugging?" complained Frankie, coming up on his siblings. "First Crowe and now you guys?"

"It's a happy day, jerk," Tommy replied, and slugged Frankie in the arm.

Jane and Frankie stared at each other for a moment. "Listen, Janie... I'm sorry for being a jerk."

She had already thought about how to handle her idiot brother when he finally came to his senses. That he'd come to the housewarming at all was a good sign. "Frankie, I'm used to you being as thick as a plank."

Frankie pushed his hand through the back of his hair. "Yeah, okay. I just wanted to tell you too, Janie-" Frankie stopped and his jaw went slack as his attention was arrested by something in the distance beyond Jane's shoulder. "Aw, Ma, no!"

Both Jane and Tommy spun around to look. "What? It's just Ma and Korsak," Tommy said, as if he already knew. Or perhaps nothing in this universe could surprise him anymore.

"They're _kissing_," objected Frankie, with about as much emotional maturity as a ten year old who still thought girls were icky.

"So?" Jane picked up a beer, her first of the party. "Vince promised to treat her good. Right. He said he'd treat Ma right."

"In public?" Now Frankie was whining. Loudly.

Angela, with well tuned maternal ears, looked over at her children. "If you don't like what you see, Francis Rizzoli, go read a book." The room, especially those who had known Frankie as a child, erupted in laughter.

* * *

"You didn't have to do this, Rizzoli," said Kate as she fetched two beers from the refrigerator. "Introduce me to Father Brophy, I mean. He's kind of cool, though."

Jane smiled. "Yes, I did. Welcome back to the land of the living, Kate. You get to act like the good citizen you always were, and that means not having to hide out from your actual life anymore. It's okay if you don't want to go to church. I don't really do it much, either. But you told me once you missed it, so now if you want it, there's a way."

"Thanks... Jane."

Both of them swayed a little, not used to hugging, but not having any other way to express themselves. Finally Kate snorted, "Yeah, right," at the same time Jane was saying, "Gross, don't touch me," and they walked away, smiling and satisfied with the interaction.

As Kate went off to talk to Daniel again, Maura slipped up behind Jane and wrapped her arms around the taller woman's waist. "That was sweet of you."

"Yeah, well, Carla acted like we all thought Ma was going to act, when Kate came out. And Kate and I have been friends for ages, we just couldn't tell anyone. I'd be a shitty friend if I didn't help her now."

Maura rose to tiptoe and kissed the back of Jane's neck. "You're an excellent friend," she murmured, breath warm against the olive skin there. "Later remind me to show you how I feel about that." Jane shivered. "Right now, I'm going to go get my father to show Tommy the new chess set he bought us. Maybe they can play together."

"Better than him playing with you again," agreed Jane, confident of her brother's ability to at least hold his own against anyone from the Isles clan. Jane only enjoyed a moment of solitude (and watching Maura's retreating backside) before Frankie came up and sighed behind her. "Ma finished yelling at you, Francis?"

Frankie sighed again. "She's happy. So I have to shut up. I just don't know if I can live in a world where Ma and Korsak are dating, and you and Kate Talucci are buddies."

"Can you live with me living with Maura?"

Frankie looked around, as if looking anywhere but at Jane was easier right now. "Yes. I'm just pissed you didn't think you could tell me, Janie. But that's no excuse for what I did at that lunch. I'm sorry -"

"Hey, hey. You're my idiot brother, so I know to expect you to act like that once in a while. You need to apologize."

"I'm trying!"

"Not to me. I _know_ you're an idiot. Go tell Maura you're sorry, and make sure she knows you mean it, or so help me, you _will_ be."

* * *

Frankie held his beer bottle and hors d'oeuvre plate in his hands as if they were a cap, head ducked in penitence. He'd watched her watching her father and Tommy, both admiring the chess set he had brought back from Namibia. She seemed pleased, he noted, watching her newly increased family getting along. From the little Frankie had been told, he thought it was a good thing that this was happening. Maybe the Isleses would get a chance to see what a warm, close, openly affectionate family was like, and learn to emulate them. Maybe the Rizzolis would benefit, too, somehow; he hoped it didn't result in his having to wear a suit on his days off like Professor Isles, there. "Hey, Maura," he said softly from the doorway, and was relieved to see an immediate smile, tense though it was, as she turned to see him there and approach.

With body language alone, so as not to disturb the chess enthusiasts, Maura ushered Frankie outside the office and into the hallway, clear of most of the party-goers. "Yes?"

One word, he thought. Not all that much to go on, but at least she didn't tell him to screw off somewhere else. Frankie kicked at the non-existent dirt for a moment. "I love my family, right?"

Maura lifted her eyebrows at Frankie and said, again, "Yes?"

She wasn't going to make this easy. "We're close, and me and Janie have always been real tight." This prompted a confused expression from Maura, "We're... we talk a lot. About personal stuff. Except we don't anymore. God, I'm making a mess of this."

The diminutive woman put a hand on his arm, "Frankie, you're doing fine."

He sighed. "After you came around, and you and Jane got to be friends, she stopped talking to me about stuff. You took over the whole confider job."

"Confidant."

"What?"

"I became her confidant. Go on, Frankie."

"Uh, right. So she tells you stuff. And it's like she doesn't think we can handle stuff anymore." Maura made a face when he said 'stuff,' so Frankie elaborated. "She doesn't trust us so much. Me and Tommy. Why else would she tell Ma about you two before me? Especially cause Ma'd flipped out about all the gay stuff before." In that moment, Frankie realized Jane had been dating Maura when their mother had said all that. "Why wouldn't she tell me about it then? We're _family_, you know?"

Maura pointed out gently, "Your mother is her family too, and she was... At the time, she was... ah... less than receptive to the idea of anyone being in same-sex relationships; and that was when she didn't even know about us yet. Jane didn't know if she could face the idea of you and Tommy rejecting her, too. She loves you so much."

Frankie had the grace to look abashed as he realized the strain that must have been on his big sister. "It... It hurt me that she was cutting me out, and I guess took it out on you, and I'm sorry."

Maura nodded. She was not someone who could just say it was all okay, that it was nothing, that it hadn't hurt both her and Jane. She could and did, however, say, "I forgive you, and I understand. It's in the past." Hesitating, then, she thought aloud, "This seems an appropriate time for some sort of... Oh, what is it?"

"Huh?"

Maura's lips pursed as she considered all the options from all the cultures she had studied. Finally she brightened as the idea came to her, and held out her hand, which Frankie took; her grip was surprisingly solid. She jutted forward and pulled him closer at the same time, thudding their shoulders together. Finally, when they both let go their hands, she gave him a firm, but not painful, punch to the shoulder. Then she looked up at him hopefully.

Frankie understood immediately. "Yeah. Bros."

Maura smiled broadly. "Bros."

* * *

The party was winding down and no one had killed anyone else. Jane decided that was a win all around, and when the slightly tipsy dancing began (Barry really was pretty good), she came up behind Maura and wrapped her arms around her girlfriend's waist. "I saw you bro-hug my brother."

"It seemed appropriate."

Jane smiled, "He's not _not_ okay, you know. He's just being an idiot. In a month, he'll start telling everyone that us getting together was his idea."

Maura looked over her shoulder, a tad puzzled. "But that's not true at all. Is it?"

"No, I think this was all us, babe."

The caramel brown head tipped to one side as Maura considered, eventually deciding, "Still, if he's claiming ownership or responsibility, it would mean he's proud of it, so I think we should just let him. I'm proud of them, too."

"Them who?"

Maura gestured around towards the assembled parents, aunts and uncles, cousins and siblings, neighbors. Giovanni, who was currently winning the _I knew they were dating first_ competition. "Our family."

* * *

_**And everyone lives happily ever after. Please feel free to review. Also, if anything seems unclear, you may have missed some installments of this series. Look on both of our profiles for them, because I've published the even-numbered ones and ChapstickLez has published the odd-numbered ones. They are:**_

'_**Shipping Up To Boston, Part 0: The Trevor Project**_

'_**Shipping Up To Boston, Part 1: It Gets Better**_

'_**Shipping Up To Boston, Part 2: Occupy Boston**_

'_**Shipping Up To Boston, Part 3: In Plain Sight**_

'_**Shipping Up To Boston, Part 4: Death at a Funeral (this one)**_

**Thank you for sticking with us through this entire fic, and this entire series. ChapstickLez and I are now due for at least a week off before we try writing some more.**


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